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Chapter Text

The sun glistened on the leaves, making the raindrops that fell on them the night before look like diamonds. The grass was damp under your feet, and the slight breeze felt comfortable on your skin. The sounds of the Shire were as usual: lots of Hobbits doing their regular chores, children running around and a few groans here and there, when the sleepiest of all were forced to get up early. Your gaze followed a beautiful bird flying from one tree to another. The bird was a beautiful one, with a bright-red chest and a grey back, the feathers on the wings being different shades of grey and black. It's melodic singing as it sat on the old willow branch, was always a reminder for the Shire folk that spring has arrived. There was a fresh lavender smell in the air, and as you stopped on your feet to enjoy it, you noticed another familiar scent.

Your gaze moved to a pastry shop window, and as you started walking towards it, you could see your best friends enjoying a couple of scones, filled with strawberry jam. Your lips curved into a smile as you opened the wooden door, and the bell above it rang to announce your arrival.

The friendly Hobbit lady behind the dusty old counter greeted you gleefully. Her hair was grey, curls all the way down to her shoulders, and the smile lines nearing the corners of her eyes revealed just how happy of a personality she must have. But your eyes weren't focused on her, but to the two young Hobbits now noticing your entry. Pippin's green eyes sparkled with joy as he noticed you enter the room. More happy than Pippin to see you, was Merry. You had been best friends with the two for a number of years, and almost every week, the three of you would sit at the bakery, planning some mischevous pranks and talking about any new happenings around the Shire.

"We were wondering where you were!" Pippin exclaimed, mouth full of the delicious scone and some red jam from it that had decided to settle on his lips. Amused at the sight you smirked, but still decided to not say anything, as usual. It would be funnier to see how long it would take him to notice his messy appearence.

"Sorry, I had other things in mind," you said in serious tone, pulling up a chair and sitting between the two. The round table was full of crumbs and there were two empty plates. You looked at the plates and then at your dearest friends, raising one brow as if to question how on earth they could have this ritual without you.

"We got hungry, I'm sorry!" Merry said, wiping his palms on his cream colored cotton shirt.

"How dare you!" you answered with feigned offense. You turned to look at Pippin for an apology, but the young Hobbit just shrugged his shoulders and kept munching the last piece of scone in his mouth. You shook your head and chuckled slightly, leaning back on your chair.

"What did you mean when you said you had other things in mind?" asked Merry curiously, now wiping his mouth with a napkin. You took a deep breath and crossed your arms.

"It's been twenty years," you stated, as if Pippin and Merry were supposed to understand the implications behind your words. The two locked eyes. Their faces could only be described as curious, yet utterly confused.

"Twenty years since what?" Merry inquired. His blue eyes looking straight into yours, his expression concerned.

"Since my parents died," you sighed. Pippin immediately turned to look at Merry, flustered as the two completely had forgotten about this tragic event in their best friend's life.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Merry apologized, his tone full of shame. "I completely forgot that was today."

"It's quite alright," you said with a faint smile, "you couldn't have known." Your head might have told you to act fine, but the sadness behind your eyes revealed your true feelings: how tragically heartbroken you felt at that moment and how twenty years still wasn't enough of healing.

"But we should've remembered!" Merry cried wtih guilt. Pippin apologized, mouth still full of scone, then finally swallowing the last piece. You reassured both of them that they did not offend you in any way, and that you would be fine.

"Is there anything we can do?" Merry asked, like he was in a rush to cheer you up.

"Yes! We could do something fun!" Pippin said cheerfully, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He slammed his hands on the table, making the empty plates clink against each other. "How about we go for a swim?"

"You know I can't swim, Peregrin!" you cried, arms still crossed, your fingers fidgeting with the soft fabric of the sleeves on your favorite yellow dress.

"Didn't you say you have had practice?" Pippin asked, puzzled.

"It doesn't mean I can."

"Well, we could always just go just hang around the water, you know?" Merry suggested, trying to not make your mood any worse. "We used to do that all the time when we were just little innocent Hobbits." You smiled at him with gratitude. Merry's lips curved upwards and his eyes had a glimmer of pride in them.

"That actually sounds great," you finally responded to him. "When should we go?"

"How about immediately?" said the young Took suddenly, and before either of you could answer, he was already up from his chair, quickly whisking away the empty plates from the table.

"I guess we're going?" you chuckled. You and Merry got up and before you could make a leave, he put his palm on your shoulder. His warm touch gave you a familiar sense of comfort.

"But seriously, are you alright?" he asked, looking at you from under his brows, his eyes full of concern. You nodded and gave him a soft smile.

On your way to the river the sun was rising higher in the sky, warming your skin. The spring breeze had settled, the lavender scent no longer lingering in the air.

"I can't believe you still can't swim," Pippin said, shaking his head. You groaned in frustration as a response. "You should know at this point!" he teased, skipping ahead of you and Merry. You shook your head. Still fidgeting with the fabric of your dress, Merry took notice of it.

"Can I help your anxiety in any way?" Merry said suddenly.

"How do you know I'm feeling anxious?" you asked, looking at him full of confusion. Merry smiled softly and compassionately.

"You always fidget something with your fingers when you feel anxious," he responded and gestured towards your sleeve, where the tips of your fingers now suddenly had stopped rubbing the fabric, like they almost felt shy for being caught. You blinked slowly, moving your eyes to look at your delicate hands.

"I never realized that it was noticeable," you mumbled, slightly embarrassed. You were aware of it, but did not know it was a telltale sign of anxiety for others.

"We've been friends for years," he said as the three of you kept walking towards the water on a gravel path, Pippin just slightly ahead of the two of you. "Of course I notice things like that."

You smiled at him, impressed by this small detail that he had noticed. Pippin was still slightly ahead of you two, every now and then stopping to gesture for you two to move faster. "That's kind of endearing, actually," you said and smiled. Merry let out a small snicker, turning his face to the ground.

"You actually have a lot of tells for how you're feeling," he said in a confident and knowing tone. This made you plead for him to tell you what he had noticed. "I'm not going to tell you what they are!" Merry smirked visibly amused. "Where's the fun in that?"

"If I have a tell, I will have you tell me what it is!" you said in a commanding tone, horrified of this revelation.

"I think not!" Merry exclaimed, his tone mischevous. "You just have to wonder about it for the rest of your life!" he laughed, and then in a mocking, high pitched voice, imitating you, he said: "Oh no! How did Meriadoc know I was exceptionally happy today? How did he notice I was nervous? Whatever will I do? How will I ever figure it out?"

"You jerk!" you laughed, elbowing his side gently, making him stumble a little to the left. It made him want to continue teasing you, still mocking you.

"Oh, how will I ever know? Merry is such a master at reading people!" he continued, making you crack up a little. You gave him a gentle push. You then suddenly bumped into Pippin, who was standing there, waiting for you.

"What took you so long?" Pippin asked.

"You were practically running!" Merry responded, still a wide smile on his face from teasing you. He gestured towards you and smirked. "And as I can tell from her expression, her old age has caught up to her, and her body gave up, forcing us both to slow down."

"Excuse me?" you said as your jaw dropped. "I am younger than you, Merry! I will have you know, if someone has any problems with their old age it's you, Mister Brandybuck! Now, you old prune, what are my tells? Tell me!"

"My dear friend," Merry said, putting his hands on your shoulder. "I absolutely will not tell you."

"What are you two on about?" Pippin asked confused. Merry just chuckled, and gestured you both to follow him to a shallow part of the river, so you could safely sit with them without going too deep. You scrunched your nose at Merry and walked behind him and Pippin to the water.

You had sat on a large rock, smoothed down by the flowing water, making it sparkle under the rays of sunshine. Every now and then some water ran over the rock, drenching your dress from the parts that were laid on the almost black stone. Twenty minutes had passed, and Merry gestured you to come closer to the slightly deeper water. You shook your head, fidgeting the sleeve of your dress anxiously. The water had finally washed away the jam from Pippin's lips as he kept plunging into the water, diving for what seemed like a forever. Pippin's head ascended from the cool water and he shook his head like a wet dog, trying to dry his curls.

"Come on, it's just waist deep!" Pippin tried to pursuade you. You just shook your head again. Pippin locked his eyes with Merry's. They both nodded in unison, turning to look at you again. "I bet you a small pouch of Southern Star that you don't have the courage."

Your ears perked up at the mention of pipe-weed. It was a delicious offer, but just the thought of going in any deeper made your heart pound faster. Pippin and Merry also knew just how to press your buttons right; they knew how competetive you were. "How much are we talking?" you inquired, your ears doing one small wiggle as your body started to show signs of peaked interest. This made Pippin and Merry chuckle.

"Does it matter? You don't have the guts!" Merry cried with a wide grin on his face. This made your fidgeting come to a halt, and instead your fists squeezed around the fabric tightly. You stood up, careful not to slip on the wet rock, and tipped your toes in the water, moving them on the surface lightly. You gave a challenging look to both mischevous hobbits and hopped in the water, ankle deep. You took one deep breath, inhaling the warm air to help calm you down. One step after another, you slowly waded towards Merry and Pippin who looked rather amused and impressed. The water rose as you waded in deeper and as the cold water touched your hips, you froze still.

It felt like the world stopped for a moment and the surrounding noises of the river flowing suddenly sounded like an ominous threat coming closer and closer, about to swallow you whole. The bottom of the river was muddy and it felt like you would slowly sink, inch by inch, until you would be under water, unable to escape. The water felt like it tried to push you down, make you stumble and fall. It would laugh at your struggles to try and stay on the surface, making you regret ever taking even one step towards your best friends. How foolish of you to take up on a challenge, knowing the water was your enemy that would smother you the first chance it got.

Suddenly you felt Merry's hand on your arm, shaking you softly. All you could hear was mumbling. Your ears were ringing and your vision was blurry as you tried with all of your strength to not collapse from fear of facing the same destiny as your parents. Your feet lifted from the mud as Merry and Pippin pulled you up by your armpits and waist to get you off to the dry land immediately, taking notice of your looming anxiety and inability to move even an inch.

What felt like forever, you soon got back to dry land and your hands gripped to the grass like it was the only thing that would keep you from falling into the flowing river. Your vision still blurry, you could distinguish the familiar voices of Merry and Pippin, but not one word was coherent. The grass felt safe and warm, pieces of dirt clinging to your wet palms and feet. You were starting to shake a little, still not able to move.

Soon you felt a warm palm on your cheek, guiding your gaze to their eyes. Merry finally caught your attention. His blue eyes felt comforting as they looked at you with compassion and care. You could see his lips moving, but not one word made sense to you. He gently brushed your cheek with his thumb, looking exceptionally guilty from pressuring you.

"You're alright," he said and you could finally decipher some of his words. Your brain felt fuzzy and your lips were quivering with fear and anxiety. "You're safe, just breathe."

You took a deep breath, slow and steady, trying to push away the panic that had taken over your body. You followed Merry's guidance as much as you could make sense of it, slowly starting to feel more air in your lungs. The grass started to feel like grass again, instead of an anchor you had to hold on to, unless you wanted to drown. You felt Pippin's palm gently rubbing your back as Merry was still caressing your cheek, guiding your every breath. You could slowly focus more, but you kept your gaze on his blue eyes, scared that if you turned your face away, the water would somehow jump on you and try to pull you back. It took you several minutes, but finally the two managed to calm you down. Your body still trembling lightly, you took one more deep breath.

"Well that was embarrassing," you jested, trying to lighten the mood immediately, as you often did. Merry chuckled with relief and shook his head, lowering his hand to your shoulder from your face. Pippin didn't laugh, but instead made his way in front of you right next to Merry.

"Are you alright?" he asked nervously, clearly feeling guilt for the second time that day. You nodded, looking at him reassuringly. Pippin's lips curled into a small smile. "Good, I thought you might feel embarrassed." You laughed loudly, voice still shaky.

They both got up on their feet, clothes drenched and every curl on their head dripping with water. You slowly got up, taking some support from the two hobbits and straightened your back. After a small discussion you all agreed it was time to go home and calm down a little. Pippin did promise you that he would still give you some pipe-weed as a 'consolation prize.'

You made your way home alone for most of the journey as Merry headed towards his home in Buckland and Pippin made his way to, in his own words, 'somewhere secret.' Though, usually it was code for some ridiculous mischief.

The green round door of Bag End was there waiting for you, immediately providing you comfort at the sight. You entered your home and called your brother by his name. He was not your brother by blood, but being adopted to the same household and growing up together most of your lives made him as much of a brother as someone who was a blood relative would.

"Hello?" you shouted, the hallway echoing, seeming empty. You took just a few steps before Frodo's head popped up from behind a wall. He gave you a soft smile and let you know there was tea at the ready in the kitchen. Frodo had made it for himself, but so much of it was left that he decided to just let it sit there, knowing how much you liked his chamomille tea.

You made your way into the kitchen and poured some still warm tea into a small cup you inherited from your parents. It was decorated with yellow flowers and had been hand painted by your great-grandmother. You stirred it calmly, looking out of the round window, admiring the green grass and the butterflies flying around, enjoying the spring as much as any being would. The small silver spoon your uncle Bilbo had given you as a birthday present (that Lobelia Sackville-Baggins kept trying to steal) was softly moving in circles, creating music-like sounds when it hit the porcelain on the edges. Your dress had mostly dried up on your way home but it was still slightly moist, making you do a small squirm as the slightly wet fabric of it kept clinging to your thigh.

With the tea in your hand you started making your way to your room, but something stopped you in your tracks. As you passed a small round mirror, you noticed something behind your ear that was not supposed to be there. A small daisy was decorating your frame on the left side of your face. You touched the soft flower lightly. Merry had put it there while calming you down. A small chuckle escaped your throat. He really knew how to cheer you up, even if it took some time to notice the gesture.

Chapter Text

For the few days following the incident at the river you mostly stayed in your own bedroom, every now and then getting something to eat from the kitchen. Frodo showed some concern, but knowing your need for space, he decided to let it slide. You were still shaken up by the panic attack, trying to avoid anything that could trigger one again.

Pippin and Merry did not take long to realize that you had been distancing yourself at home for more than a day. Normally you would already be at least on a walk, where one of them would run into you. They decided to visit Bag End to drag you out of the bed by force.

"No! You're not allowed to stay indoors any longer!" Pippin exclaimed and started to pull you out of bed. Merry was biting his nails. You groaned and made your body limp, so it would be harder to pull you away from the comfort of your blanket. "You have been indoors for over a day already and we all know how easily you distance yourself. Get up, Baggins!"

"We promised you some pipe-weed, didn't we?" Merry said, his arms crossed, looking at you. His eyes revealed just how guilt-ridden he was feeling about pushing your boundaries at the river. Pippin tended to feel more guilty but never showed it to anyone but Merry.

"Is there any way you would just let me have some space for one more day?" you asked, already knowing their answer. Merry shook his head and bluntly declined your request. Finally, the two managed to pull you out of bed and you rushed them out of your bedroom for some privacy.

You went through your closet for quite some time, trying to decide between a few different dresses, your fingers gently rubbing the different kinds of fabrics to see if any of them would make you feel slightly more comfortable in your skin. You settled on a sage green dress, made of a material so soft and light that you could barely feel it on. You slipped the dress on, and unlike usual, decided to skip a corset, just to make sure no piece of clothing made you feel any more uncomfortable.

You made your way down the hall, where Merry and Pippin had made themselves at home and were chatting up with your brother, laughing about some private joke of their own. You passed the small mirror that was hanging on the wall in the hallway, glancing at it and smiling to yourself. You thought about the small gesture of comfort Merry had provided you by putting your favorite flower sneakily behind your ear.

You entered the kitchen, fidgeting with the hem of your dress, nervous about leaving the house, while knowing it was the best decision for you.

"Glad to see you up on your feet again!" Frodo said cheerfully, his smile gentle and wide. Merry put his arm around you, squeezing you firmly.

"We couldn't let her stay in any longer. Who knows how long she would've stayed indoors!" Merry said. "It was the pipe-weed that finally got her out of the bed. I fear our friend has an addiction," he continued teasingly. You gave Merry a soft, playful smack on his shoulder, making him chuckle.

"We actually got something better for you, as an apology," Pippin said and handed you a small leather pouch. "It's Old Toby. We know you prefer it."

Smiling, you accepted the apology, immediately inhaling some of the sweet smell of the leaves through the leather. Frodo shook his head at this sight, taking a sip of his tea.

"So, do you want to smoke it now?" Merry said, hoping you would share some of it with him and Pippin. You gave him a nod, trying not to act too enthusiastic about getting to taste some of the sweetness of the pipe-weed soon. You then saw Merry's eyes shift slightly to the left from your eyes. One corner of his mouth curled up a little, making you turn around to see what he was grinning at. There seemed to be nothing amusing behind you, so you figured he had to be happy about your agreement to go have a smoke.

It was a cold day in the Shire. You were wrapped up in your long coat, arms crossed, slightly shivering. Merry seemed to be in his element, enjoying the cold spring breeze. Pippin on the other hand, was shaking and whimpering, not wearing enough layers. You were walking on the damp ground, wet grass getting between your toes. Merry was leading the way to a place, that in his words, was 'something very special indeed.'

"How much further?" you asked, wrapping your coat more firmly around your figure. Pippin lifted his head up, lips quivering as he looked at his best friend, hoping for an answer that would be no less than ten minutes.

"An hour," Merry said calmly, looking over his shoulder at the two of you. Pippin stopped in his tracks, shaking his head.

"No, I will not," Pippin said determined, his voice trembling from the cold. He turned around and lifted his hand up to wave goodbye, without even looking back. "Too far. No. I need to get something warm around me. Maybe ten thousand blankets. Enjoy your trip to whatever he thinks this suffering is worth!" Pippin cried, and as he walked he kept muttering to himself, long after he was no longer in the hearing distance.

"Well, more Old Toby for us," you smirked, slightly shaking from the wind. Merry smiled softly at your comment, turning his face back forward to where you two were walking. "I do feel cold though, Merry."

"Trust me, it's going to be worth it," Merry reassured you, giving you a confident look. Your eyes narrowed slightly, trying to decide whether to believe him or not. Merry took notice of your analyzing look. "I am not lying, and you're going to thank me when we arrive there, I assure you."

It took you and Merry less than an hour of walking, when he suddenly came to a halt. There was a cornfield opening in front of you. The stalks of them were a faint green, their length tall, forcing you to tilt your head all the way back if you wanted to see their highest points. Their growth was dense, making it seem like a too narrow path to pass. You lifted your eyebrow at Merry, your arms crossed as you were trying to wrap the thick coat tighter around you. Your coat covered you almost all the way to your ankles, as you were shorter than an average hobbit.

"Merry, why are we standing in front of a cornfield?" you asked. Merry looked at you, amused at your puzzled expression. His answer was a simple nod towards the cornfield. He started making his way through the first rows of the green stalks, his right side first and arms spread wide. With a loud exhale, you followed him.

It was so densely grown, you could not move without at least one cornstalk touching your clothes, or messing up your hair. Every now and then Merry would tell you to duck, as there were some badly grown stalks bending downward. You followed his path for five minutes without saying anything out loud. Then Merry stopped walking, and you followed his example, stopping immediately.

"Just a few rows forward," he said, smiling confidently, clearly trying to act all mysterious. He took one step, before you grabbed his shoulder to stop him from going any further.

"Would you just please explain to me why we are in the middle of a cornfield?" you asked, feeling slightly frustrated from the cold, your feet irritated by the dirt you were standing on.

"Look, just trust me," Merry said and gestured to you to walk first. "M'lady," he snickered in a teasing tone. You decided to oblige, making your way through the last few thick rows of corn.

The bright daylight hit your face the second you had gone through where Merry guided you, making you squint your eyes. Your eyes had gotten used to the dimness of the field and the sudden exposure startled you. When you got used to the sudden flash of light, you could see that you were standing in a small opening. There was a large rock in the middle. It was rough and firm on the ground, and it was even taller than the corns were at their highest. The grey sky was solid behind it, as you gazed up, trying so hard to see the top of the large stone.

"Now we climb," Merry said as he appeared from behind you. He went up to the rock, placing his grassy feet on some of the rough edges of it. His hands gripped confidently on the solid stone under him, as he turned his gaze to you, questioning why you were not following him yet. "Well, come on!" he rushed.

"I don't think I can climb, Merry," you responded, still shivering under your coat. "My hands are so cold. I can't feel a thing."

Merry hopped back down on the ground, walking towards you. He took your freezing, pale and delicate hands in his. He placed them firmly between the palms of his hands, rubbing them to provide some warmth. He lifted them to the same level as his face, placing his lips close to your skin, breathing some warm air from his lungs on your hands. Soon the feeling started to return to your hands, but Merry kept going, wanting to make sure they would not freeze back up.

"Is that better, my lady?" Merry said teasingly, still some tenderness in his tone.

You chuckled softly, giving him a thankful smile. "Yes, thank you."

"Now, are you ready to climb?" he asked, already walking towards the rock.

You followed his every step, trusting he knew his way up there better than you ever could. You truly did not want to slip down, even though a part of you was even suspicious it might have been a part of a long term prank that Merry had planned. The rock was cold beneath the bottom of your feet, and the air was more chilly the higher you got.

It was a fast climb, and Merry soon offered his hand to pull you up. You took his hand, and he pulled you up with a firm grip. And the second you got to the top of the rock, you realized why Merry had wanted to come to this spot for a smoke.

The field opened up all around you, seeming like there were endless rows of beautiful greenery growing. The wind was cold, but beautifully it was softly blowing and making the corn, which was in its early stage of growth, dance like waves. It made you forget all about the temperature. The sky was grey, yet despite the seemingly melancholy weather, it looked beautiful. The contrast between the earth and the sky looked stunning from up there, providing a calming atmosphere.

"I've never told anyone about this place," Merry said, taking his wooden pipe from his pocket, preparing to smoke some Old Toby. "Except Frodo. I think he comes down here to read sometimes, and so do I. I believed it was time to show this to Pippin and you. Well, mostly you."

"What do you mean mostly me?" you asked, handing him the small pouch of pipe-weed. Merry filled the bowl of the pipe, pressing the leaf down gently. He lit it up, inhaling the first round of Old Toby.

"I know you like to have some time to yourself," he answered sincerely, taking another puff. He looked somewhere to the distance, admiring the surroundings. "I figured that after what happened at the river, I owed you a proper apology. I thought showing a place where you can cool down your overactive mind would do the trick."

"Well, apology accepted," you smiled, gently taking the pipe from his hands. You took a puff, the pipe lingering on your lips for a moment. It took almost no time at all for the calming effects of it to hit both of you. You passed the pipe to each other for some time in total silence. The wind was calming down, and the sky looked like it could rain soon.

"You seem troubled," you said, looking at Merry, who was deep in his thoughts. His eyes were fixated on the horizon, as he took a deep breath. He passed you the pipe, leaning backwards to lay down on his back, as the top of the rock was wide enough for a Hobbit to rest down almost comfortably. "Merry?"

"I broke it off with Estella," Merry muttered under his breath. He had been dating his friend's sister for several months now. This information was almost jaw dropping to you, but you tried to keep your composure and not pressure your friend too much.

"What happened?" you asked carefully and concerned, extinguishing the remaining pipe-weed. You put the pipe down and placed your palm on his shoulder, trying to make sure he knew that he was in a safe space with you. This was not an area of expertise for you when it came to Merry. The two of you talked about many things, but relationships or their difficulties, were not one of those things. Merry exhaled loudly.

"I don't know. Something about it did not feel right from the start, which I don't completely understand," he said, almost puzzled about his own decision. He placed his palms behind his head, gently resting on them. "If you wrote down her qualities next to mine, it would be perfect. Perfect, but only on paper. Whenever I held her close, or even kissed her... It just felt odd."

You felt compassion towards your best friend, still shocked that he was opening up about the troubles of his romantic life to you. You stayed quiet, still holding his shoulder gently. Merry did not seem to have anything more to say on the matter, but you had plenty of questions and could not keep totally silent.

"When did this happen?" you asked. It had to not have been more than a few days. He had not acted any way differently since the last time you saw him at the river.

"A month ago," Merry answered, your face showing all the possible signs of confusion at once. Nothing had seemed different, yet he was going through a massive change in his life.

"A month! How on earth did I miss that?" you cried, looking at him with pure shock. Merry shifted his eyes on you, a calm expression on his face.

"Well, we don't really talk about this stuff," he responded, softly chuckling at the whole reality of the situation. "Besides, I felt bad."

"I get it," you said. "Whenever a relationship ends, it's just always hard to-"

Merry interrupted you, lifting his other hand in the air. "That's not what I meant," he said, his body twisting a little from feeling uncomfortable. "I felt bad, because I didn't feel bad. She was crying, and all I could do was just stare at her. I felt so relieved. Seeing her cry made me feel like the worst being in all of Middle-Earth. I tried to comfort her, but she just ran off. We haven't said a word to each other since, nor has Fatty talked to me either."

You stared at Merry in confusion. You thought he had been happy, and you had no clue he had stirred the pot in his personal life so roughly. You gave him an understanding smile.

"Look, you tried to comfort her. That's all I'm saying," you responded, trying to cheer Merry up. "It did not feel right and you did the correct thing by ending it, before it escalated."

"I just wish I didn't make her feel so heartbroken, that his brother decided to not talk to me," Merry said quietly. "Fatty and I have always been friends. So have Estella and I. I might have ruined good friendships by trying to force something, when it wasn't there."

"Hey," you said, firmly grabbing his shoulder and giving him a supportive shake. "You did not ruin anything. Yes, sure, she might be mad at you for a while, but I'm positive she will eventually get over it. Both of them will. He's just very protective over his younger sister. You didn't force anything. You gave it a try, and it wasn't a match."

"The thing is," Merry said, sitting up, a slightly sad expression on his face, his eyes glued to his feet. "So far all of my relationships have been like this. At this point, I fear something is wrong with me!"

You shuffled closer, placing your arm around him. He leaned his head on top of yours, as you always had done when providing comfort to each other.

"Nothing is wrong with you, Merry. You just haven't met the right girl yet," you said, squeezing your arm around him tightly. Merry sighed, appearing to not believe a word from your mouth, as he dwelled deep in his guilt. "I mean it. Someone will come along. You'll be at the Green Dragon, and your eyes meet, and you'll know."

"It's just weird, that's all," Merry sighed. "I've had plenty of crushes, all around Buckland too, but when it came to actually something happening, it came to a halt from my side. There's always this empty feeling. It feels like it's wrong, and I can't quite explain it."

Merry's words made you quiet. As you thought of what he said, you related to it more than you had before realized. Most of the Hobbits you had dated were perfect on paper, but when it came down to actually feeling something real with them - it was never there.

"I get it," you finally said after some time, Merry snickering at your response. "No, I mean it, Merry. I hadn't really thought about it like that before, but I think I was miserable because of that exact reason in my previous relationships. Even the latest relationship ended with her crying, and me feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders."

Merry looked at you, eyes widening with surprisement.

"My dear friend, you have just made me feel so much better," he smiled, hugging you tightly. His arms around you were always a source of comfort, and in that moment you felt like you really needed it as well. You wrapped your other arm around him too, squeezing him tightly. You were enjoying the calming effect of the hug, as always. His face was nuzzled comfortably in your neck, his smile pressing against your skin.

"I think you are sometimes too hard on yourself," you said to him as you pulled away from the hug. "There are plenty of Hobbits out there for you. You just have to find the right one."

"I am not as sure about it as I used to be, but I am definitely feeling more confident now!" he stated, voice full of sudden happiness. "Maybe it's the pipe-weed, maybe it's you, or maybe it's both."

You giggled at his joke, realizing then just how calm the smoking had made both of you. Talking about all this stuff with your best friend felt new, refreshing and like it should have happened a long time ago.

You both talked about your past relationships for over an hour, in tears of laughter at the disasters they had all been. Neither of you noticed the passage of time or the cold air anymore, until the effects of Old Toby started to wear off. After that you both agreed that it would be time for both of you to go back for some late luncheon.

On your way back, you were both slightly more quiet and in your thoughts, but relieved as some weight got lifted off your shoulders, knowing you weren't alone with your catastrophic relationship history.

"Did you know that suits you?" Merry suddenly asked, as the two of you were making your way through the Shire, Bag End slowly approaching in the distance.

"What suits me?" you responded, confused. Merry chuckled and picked up a piece of dirt that had somehow clumped its way to your curls on your journey. He flicked it to the ground with his fingers, looking at you with a mischievous grin. "How long has that been there?" you asked him, slightly annoyed.

"Since we got through the cornfield for the first time," Merry said, smirking. "I noticed it, but I thought it would be funny to not say a thing."

"I had dirt in my hair for hours and you said nothing?" you shouted in a playfully furious tone. "Meriadoc Brandybuck!"

"Calm down!" he chuckled and lifted his hands up, as if to surrender. "I just figured you might have thought it suited your style better than a flower behind your ear, but I suppose I was wrong."

"What, the daisy you snuck in my hair when you were calming me down?" you said, eyes narrowing as you looked at him in his blue eyes, which were glowing with mischief and self-satisfaction.

"Ah, you noticed!" Merry laughed whole-heartedly. "I thought it might frame your face nicely. I did not know it would make you upset. My sincerest apologies," he continued with a sarcastic manner, making you giggle.

"What a nice thought," you smirked, scrunching your nose at him. You crossed your arms, now again shivering from the cold spring wind. "When I have a panic attack again, I'll make sure we are surrounded by daisies."

Merry laughed. "Well, let's hope you don't have another panic attack. What if I don't have a daisy on me? More than that, what if you are so smothered by anxiety that I have to whip up a flower crown for you in a matter of seconds?" he exclaimed dramatically, making your giggles louder. His gaze traveled around your face as he talked, clearly looking for signs that his jokes about the dramatic need of flowers at all times were still funny to you.

"In all seriousness," you started, clearing your throat and changing your tone from playful to a more serious one. "It was a nice gesture. I saw it in the mirror later and it cheered me up."

"I figured it might," Merry said, smiling softly, looking at the ground as you walked through the gate of Bag End. "I know it's your favorite flower."

You gave him a tender smile "I am amazed how well you actually know me," you said, entering through the green front door with him.

Chapter Text

You put the book you were holding back on the counter and turned around to face Merry. His blue eyes were glimmering with hope, but still you had to turn his idea down.

"Absolutely not!" you said, putting your hands on your hips. "You are not doing that. I did not want a birthday party last year, or the year before, nor do I want one now!"

"Oh, come on!" Merry sighed, disappointed, but still trying to change your mind. "This year is different! You come of age. It is not every year you become an adult. Not that you are an adult. You are freakishly childish," he teased, making you snort. You did not like to be the center of attention, so birthdays were always a no-go for you. Yet, Merry was determined to throw you a party this year. Merry kept insisting. "My party three years ago was fantastic! I believe I've never had so much ale."

"You can try and change my mind all you want, Merry," you said in a firm tone, hopping up on the kitchen counter to sit next to the book you had just placed down, "I am not going to change my mind. I just want to go to the thing they're holding at Brandy Hall."

"To the absolutely rubbish thing my mother is throwing?" Merry said. "Absolutely not. As much as I love my family, no. You deserve a party that is focused solely on you. Just this once. You would get all the ale you want and all the food you can think of. And imagine the presents!" Merry was practically shouting, using his hands to mimic opening presents.

"Merry, I don't want a party," you said, visibly frustrated. You wanted to do something fun and different, but nothing that would be centered around you; Merry did not like that. "There's going to be dancing and music at the event. That is more than good enough for me. And there will be ale. That should be good enough for you too."

Merry sighed and started walking around in circles, biting the nail of his thumb. His gaze was fixed on the kitchen floor until he looked back up and walked to you. He put his hands on your knees and leaned in, smiling to you softly.

"Alright. But only on two conditions!" Merry said, smiling with mischief. It was clear to you that he had something planned that you might not necessarily like, but you could no longer resist his optimistic approach and determination

"Fine," you said, looking at him as he leaned in with that smug look on his face. "What is your first condition?"

"You tell my mother it's your birthday," he said, and before you could say anything to protest, he put his finger on your mouth to hush you. "You don't need to tell anyone else. All I am asking for is you to tell my mother, so she won't make me do any work during the event. You know my family. We are hard workers and if their only, admittedly intelligent and productive son, appeared at the party for fun instead of doing chores and helping around, they would force me to work harder than ever in my life. I love my parents, but sometimes it's better to have just more fun than be responsible. I just want to have fun with my friend."

You smiled softly and nodded, patting his palm with your hand.

"What's the second condition?" you asked, preparing yourself for some utterly frustrating mischief Merry would have in mind. Yet, he went in another direction.

"You go there with me," he said. You tilted your head to the side, confused. "It is also a dance, and it would be very embarrassing for me to go there with my own cousin. Pippin can find someone else to dance with him. I am sure there's some charming company for him. Although, I'm sure he wants a dance or two with you."

You chuckled and shook your head.

"It would probably at least confirm to your mother that it is actually my birthday and not just some ruse to get you out of work," you said and hopped off the counter, now standing next to Merry and looking up at him. "Pippin and you can take turns I suppose. I doubt I will find someone to go with me on such short notice. But I really do want to go. I love dancing."

"I know you do," Merry said confidently. "And who knows, maybe you will meet the hobbit of your dreams on the dance floor! Well, do we have a deal?"

You took a small moment to think about it. Knowing Merry, you figured he was probably up to something. And yet you decided to trust your friend to make sure your birthday would actually be somewhat enjoyable.

"Fine, we have a deal," you said. Merry's eyes began sparkling with joy. He gave you a friendly pat on your shoulder and started walking out of the kitchen.

"You will not regret it!" Merry shouted as he ran down the hallway and fast as the wind out of Bag End. The door quickly slammed behind him. The joy and excitement that sparked out of him made you wonder if his confident and trusting words were true at all.

There was a large room in the center of Brandy Hall. There were plenty of lights, many of them different colors and some of them turning around as they dangled from the ceiling, creating shapes and shadows so other-worldly you could barely take your eyes off of them. Many Hobbits were at the party, some already slightly tipsy. Parties hosted by Esmeralda Brandybuck were not always so lively, but this one seemed to be exceptionally colorful. Plenty of younger Brandybucks were running around the halls, their laughter echoing along the music. The large round window was covered in a large dark blue sheet that was embroidered with silver stars. It was hung there by Merry and his father to block any natural light from coming into the main room of the party.

You walked toward the right side of the room, where you saw Merry pouring a couple of drinks for some older Hobbits. The sight made you chuckle, as Merry didn't seem to have gotten away from doing some work at the event after all. The second you locked eyes with him, he put down everything from his hands and fixed his dark red waistcoat. His mother, beautiful and around the height of her son, stood beside him. Merry turned to her, gesturing to your direction. You couldn't hear what they were talking, but soon his mother smiled at you and they made their way to you.

"I hear it is your thirty-third birthday!" said Esmeralda, smiling softly at you. She handed you a small velvet box. You looked at the red box, puzzled and then turned to look at Merry, who was visibly smirking. "Go on! It's my present to you. Meriadoc told me you like presents but don't tend to make a fuss about your birthdays."

You gave Merry an annoyed side eye. Of course he would tell his mother you love presents. He did stuff like this just to annoy you because he knew it would make you feel rather embarrassed. You could see his smug expression get even bigger as your cheeks flushed the more his mother kept talking. Esmeralda kept shaking the present in front you, urging you to open it. You took it from her hands hesitantly and started putting it in the pocket of your yellow dress.

"Why don't you open it now?" Merry interrupted. You looked at him, your left eye twitching. You would avenge this.

You hesitated, but then slowly opened the box. The inside of the velvet box was black, and there was some light yellow tissue paper in the middle. You glanced at Merry, who was tapping his large foot impatiently. You slowly unwrapped the soft tissue paper and as you saw what was in it, you let out a faint gasp. It was a brooch and even though it was quite small, it was breathtaking. It looked like a flower, the stem of it made of shiny gold, bending ever so slightly. The petals of the flower looked like they were made of pearls, and in the middle of it, a yellow gemstone. You looked up at Esmeralda Brandybuck, her face full of joy. Then you turned to look at Merry, whose face was now full of pride instead of mischief.

"Meriadoc said you like flowers," she said warmly, taking the brooch in her palm, delicately holding it and handing it to you. Merry took the velvet box away from you, smiling and clearly impressed with himself.

"I really can't take this," you stuttered, trying to push Esmeralda's hand away with the brooch. She shook her head and started pinning the present to the front left of your dress.

"It's been in my family for quite a few generations but no one ever had any use for it," she said as she tapped the flower gently. It was now decorating your dress and you couldn't help but feel guilty, yet amazed by having been given something so beautiful that had so much worth. "It is the day you come of age, Ms. Baggins. You should not be so coy about wanting something special for this day. Meriadoc wanted to give one of his best friends a good birthday present, and the way he spoke about your interests and gave me some options, I came to the conclusion this was the one to go with. I don't know if you noticed or know any flora at all, but it's-"

"A daisy," you finished her sentence. You were amazed by how well Merry had planned this, even though you specifically told him you wanted no presents, for it would annoy and make you flustered. And yet, this gift was the best present you had ever received and made you feel somewhat special. "Thank you. I really appreciate it, Mrs. Brandybuck."

Esmeralda gave you a soft smile before she turned away to go back behind the bar. She gave her son a meaningful look and walked off. When his mother was no longer at a hearing distance, you looked at Merry. You were partly furious, yet impressed and thankful.

"I'm sorry," Merry said, putting his hands on your shoulders. "It's your thirty-third birthday. I had to get you a present and I knew there was a perfect one in my mother's jewelry box."

"You're the worst!" you said, making Merry laugh whole-heartedly. He gave you a pat on your shoulder as the two of you started walking towards the bar, where Merry got you both some ale.

You and Merry made your way through the dance floor, where plenty of children were dancing with their siblings and parents. Most of them were Brandybucks, but there were some Tooks and a few Boffins here and there. You inquired of Pippin's whereabouts, but Merry said Pippin could not make it that evening because he had some stuff to figure out with Frodo. You let it slide, despite being curious what your other best friend and your brother might have been up to.

You and Merry sat on a few wooden chairs against the back wall, drinking your ales in silence for a bit.

"So, is it everything you hoped for?" Merry asked, taking a sip of his ale. He looked at you, waiting for an answer for a moment before he realized you were not even listening. "Is it?"

"What?" you responded, snapping out of your own thoughts. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Are you staring at someone?" Merry immediately asked and his gaze turned to the dance floor, his eyes studying every Hobbit lass and lad there.

"What? No," you lied, which Merry could immediately tell from your voice. Your eyes had been lingering on one of Pippin's older sisters. Pervinca Took was your age and you had been crushing on her for a while a few months back. She looked surprisingly different from Pippin, but her eyes had the same childlike wonder her younger brother always had. Her curls were beautiful, and the way she was dancing on the floor was mesmerizing.

"Are you staring at him?" Merry asked, pointing at a very old Brandybuck, barely able to stand because of his age. You snorted at this sarcastic gesture. Merry smiled at his own joke with pride, until he decided to poke some more information out of you. "Is it her? Is it him? What about him? Or her?" he kept asking and pointing to practically every adult Hobbit dancing in front of you, until you finally told him to stop.

"Fine, fine!" you said, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Look, just, don't tell Pippin. I had a crush on his sister for a while, so I was just looking at her dance. Nothing more."

"Wait, which sister?" Merry asked, his interest immediately peaking. You nodded towards Pervinca, and Merry smirked. "But her dancing is so clumsy!" he joked and you snorted.

"Look, it was a small crush and I got over it," you said, trying to get the conversation over with as quickly as possible.

"Ah, yes. You got over it," Merry said, trying to hold in some laughter. "So you staring at her dancing was not the reason you didn't listen to me?" he jested.

"She just looks nice tonight, that's all!" you responded, fully honest. "I am over the crush. I'm just not over how good she is at dancing. I mean, look at her!"

And you both looked. Indeed, her dancing was astonishing and she looked like she was having the time of her life. Two months earlier you would have been swooning over her, and yes, while you noticed her looks even at that moment, you truly were over the small crush, just waiting for a new one to appear. To sweep you off your feet.

"She is good at dancing," Merry said, impressed, nodding along to the music before turning to look at you again, "but so are you. Do you want to go dance?" he asked, putting down his pint next to the chair and offering his hand to you. You put down your own ale, took his hand and followed him to the dancefloor.

The music was loud and inviting. Everywhere around you were Hobbits laughing, singing and dancing. You and Merry danced to some more upbeat songs together, hopping around the dancefloor together hand in hand, every now and then changing dancing partners with other fellow Hobbits that came your way.

The time went by fast. You were maybe a couple of drinks down, when your face became flushed from all the intense dancing and the ale started affecting you. You stopped moving for a while to catch a breath and went for some water, sitting down at your seats again. You held your hair up by your hand to give your neck some air, your other hand fanning your face.

"Already giving up?" Merry asked, clearly out of breath himself. As a response you just chuckled and drank some water, put it down again and kept fanning your face.

"And you said the events your mother throws are lame!" you said, practically gasping for air. The air in the room was growing hotter and hotter as more and more Brandybucks found their way to the dancefloor.

"Can you dance with me?" asked a little voice in front of Merry all of a sudden. A small Hobbit girl was standing there, tilting her head and bouncing up and down on her little feet.

"Why of course, my lady," Merry answered to the fauntling and led her to the dance floor.

The small Hobbit (probably a Took) hopped on top of Merry's feet as he danced her around. The giggles coming out of her mouth filled the air, making your heart swell as you watched the two hop around. It was an adorable sight. Merry lifted the child by her armpits and swung her in the air, the giggles growing louder. Your lips curled up to a soft smile as you observed your best friend entertaining this small, innocent creature.

The song slowly came to an end and the Hobbits responsible for the tunes announced a break from the action. The drums started playing a slower beat, all the other instruments following. Merry gave the girl a pat on her back, ushering her towards her parents. Slowly he made his way to you, offering his hand once again.

"It's a slow song. Do you think you can handle it?" he said. You gave him an amused look and took his hand. He led you to the dancefloor and placed his hands gently on your waist. You put your hands on his shoulders and smiled at him.

"That was quite an adorable sight," you stated, making Merry chuckle.

"What can I say? I am a natural charmer," he joked as you were swaying slowly. The air was cooling down a little bit as the dancing got slower and the people were fewer. Merry decided to ask you again the question you didn't answer before: "So, is it everything you hoped for?"

"What do you mean?" you asked, confused.

"Your birthday," he explained, looking down at you and into your eyes. "You wanted to come here and you got it. Unfortunately, I had to do something you asked me not to do."

"As per usual," you said, making him laugh softly. He nodded and looked down for a second.

"Yes, as per usual," he said, smiling to himself. He then looked back at you. "I know you don't think birthdays have to be something big, but I just really wanted to give you something special this year. You're my best friend. After Pippin, of course."

You turned your gaze down to look at the brooch you got from him and his mother.

"It's beautiful," you said quietly. "I just feel guilty. It must be worth so much."

One of his hands moved away from your waist and gently cupped your other cheek, guiding you to look at him in the eyes.

"Hey, don't feel guilty," he said firmly. "I knew my mother no longer needed it and I wanted to give my best friend something for her birthday. I knew you would have more use for it than anyone in my family."

You looked at him with some remorse in your eyes, his thumb softly caressing your cheek.

"I've never given you a present this great, Merry," you said, apathy in your voice. You had been friends for so long, but this was better than any gift either of you had ever gotten for each other - and certainly better than anything you had ever given him.

Merry sighed and pulled you in for a comforting hug. You continued dancing as he kept reassuring you.

"I promise you that you have absolutely nothing to feel guilty for," he said, holding you tightly, one hand behind your back and one behind your head. His hand was softly caressing the back of your head, his palm brushing against your hair. "I have always loved your presents. No matter how stupid they were."

You laughed loudly, his friendly banter immediately cheering you up. You had the tendency to feel guilty over the smallest of things sometimes, but Merry always found a way to go around the insecurities and make you feel better. Merry laughed with you and soon he pulled away from the hug. You two kept dancing, but no longer were your palms on his shoulders nor his hands on your waist. His other arm stayed around your back, the other one moving next to it, so that his hands ended up on your lower back. Your arms were up around the sides of his neck, gently resting on his shoulders. He was gazing into your eyes, and for the first time you took note of just how blue they really were.

"I don't know how you do it," you said after a moment of silent staring and dancing.

Merry looked at you, puzzled, not sure how to respond.

"Do what?" he finally said, his hands soft on your lower back. He was still not breaking eye contact, and it seemed like he was analyzing the emotions behind your eyes.

"That," you said, gazing back at him. "You always find a way to cheer me up. I feel guilty and sad over the stupidest of things sometimes, yet you always come through for me."

The right corner of his lips curled into a small shy smile.

"You make it sound like it's a big deal," he responded modestly.

"It is a big deal, Merry!" you exclaimed, almost shocked that he didn't seem to be aware of the impact of his support and comfort. Merry kept looking at you, his hands still on your back, studying the meaning and importance of your words. "I don't think you realize how much it means to me. Like today I didn't want any presents or a party, because I've never really felt like I was worth any of that. And yet you managed to give them to me in a way that made me feel special and important."

Merry had a look on his face that you had not really seen on him before. It wasn't there earlier, but it had slowly now appeared. It seemed like a mix of pity and confusion; but it was not that. You kept dancing, gazing into each other's eyes, gently wrapped up around each other. The brooch on your chest was now slightly brushing against the fabric of his vest, yet neither of you seemed to notice just how close you had moved during the conversation.

"You are special and important," he finally said after some time, still looking at you with that new look, and you couldn't quite determine if it was a bad one or a good one. "I wish you could see that."

With that, the slow music shifted to a very fast and upbeat song, making everyone around you start to move more. Then suddenly the amount of Hobbits on the dance floor doubled as everybody got back into the cheerful state they were in before. The exhaustion had worn off and the party was properly back on. You and Merry gazed at each other for a few more seconds before letting go of each other.

"Maybe one day I will see it. But for now, let's go sit back down. I want to finish that water and replace it with some more ale," you said in a playful tone, trying to dust off the seriousness that was lingering between you and your best friend. His other hand lingered on your lower back for a very short moment before you started walking back to your seats. Merry was still standing where you had danced with him.

"I think I'm starting to see it," he said quietly to himself.

Chapter Text

You were sat outside near the gate of Bag End. You were wrapped up in an old moss green blanket made of felt, observing the running, giggling children. Everyone in the Shire was enjoying the April day, but you were feeling frustrated.

Gandalf had settled into your home, and it felt to you like he was avoiding you with all his might. You had been fond of him before, but this behavior had made you question if he was just hiding a cruel personality under all that laughter and the fireworks. You heard him talk with Frodo endlessly, but whenever you entered the room he went silent. You had come to a conclusion that you must have been making him somehow uncomfortable with your presence. As a result you had started to spend more time outside instead of the calming atmosphere of your own home. Not that it was a safe space anymore, for it had mostly become unbearably uncomfortable to be in.

You saw a familiar face approach Bag End. His short, blonde hair was a little messy, his fingernails dirty and the legs of his pants were covered in dirt around his knees. Samwise smiled at you softly and waved to you in a friendly manner.

"Enjoying the warm April breeze again?" Sam asked as he walked up to you.

"I enjoy watching the children play," you sighed, "though, I would prefer being indoors right now."

Samwise propped himself against the fence with his arm, looking at you his gaze full of compassion.

"You know, Mr. Gandalf is not that bad," he said, trying to reassure you. "I'm sure he is fine with you inside the house. He just is a little secretive sometimes. One of the more odd but good folk, as my Gaffer sometimes says."

"I would like to think so, but I don't feel welcome," you said, lifting your knees up to your chin, resting it there. "Are you here to take care of those weeds by the window?"

Sam's cheeks flushed a little and he scratched his head, his posture switching to one showing his growing awkwardness.

"No, ma'am," he said, stuttering a little, trying to find the right words. "I am here to see Mister Gandalf. He has asked to see me this instant."

You chuckled, looking at Sam with one eyebrow lifted.

"I should probably start to do some gardening to appeal to him," you jested, causing Sam to panic and try and reassure you more of your worth.

"Oh no, miss!" he said, placing his hands on his heart. "You are of great quality, even when not gardening! Not that gardening means great quality. Oh dear. What I meant to say, miss, was..."

"Relax, Samwise!" you laughed earnestly, amused by his reaction to your small jab at his importance to Gandalf. "It was all in jest. Go inside. I'm sure it's important."

Sam looked at you, his eyes filled with insecurity. It was clear he did not know how to handle the situation properly.

"I hope you do not mind," Sam said softly, once again scratching his head in a shy manner. "I am sure with time Mister Gandalf..."

"Sam!" you laughed and got up on your feet, softly pushing him through the gate. "Just go!"

Sam looked back at you, smiling uncomfortably and stumbling on his feet as he made his way into your home, closing the door carefully behind him.

You opened the pastry shop door and the familiar sound of a bell rang above you. The shop was filled with a sweet smell of freshly baked goods, and the smell of cinnamon and cardamom were particularly mouth watering.

You walked to the lady at the register, her smile familiar and comforting. You handed her some silver as a payment. She knew your regular order and gave you a sizeable piece of carrot cake without you having to ask for it. Your smile was wide as you thanked her. You took a glass of water with you and made your way to the same table you always sat at.

Ten minutes passed and the bell rang as the door to the shop opened. Pippin greeted the shop owner cheerfully, while making his way to you.

"Hullo!" he greeted you, a big smile on his face. He sat down across from you and started taking the light blue scarf off his neck.

"Is Merry not coming?" you asked, confused as to why they had not come together. He was not one to skip the pastry shop hangouts.

"In all honesty, I don't even know where he is," Pippin said casually, shrugging his shoulders. He laid his blue coat on the back of his chair and started to look around the shop, wondering what he wanted to enjoy as a meal this time around. "He said he would come. I saw him just yesterday."

"Do you think something has happened?" you asked, worried about your friend. "I haven't seen him since the dance."

Pippin shrug his shoulders, not seeming too upset or concerned for the well being of his best friend. Pippin's eyes grew wide as he spotted chocolate muffins on the counter behind him. He got up fast and immediately went to buy it, the delicious looking treat now tempting you too. You looked down at your carrot cake, pouting and pondering your life decisions regarding sweet treats.

"I'm sure he is alright," Pippin said, already munching on his chocolate filled deliciousness. He sat back down and looked at you reassuringly. "I haven't seen him as much either, but he did say his dad has been asking him to do a lot of work around Brandy Hall."

You nodded. It made sense to you, even though it still concerned you that you had not seen him in almost two weeks, when normally you would see him almost daily.

"I hope so," you said, and at that moment the door to the pastry shop opened again. Merry was standing there, readjusting his olive green coat. The look on his face was serious, but he still smiled faintly at you and Pippin. He walked to the table after getting himself a piece of carrot cake.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Merry apologized, glancing at you quickly and then turning his gaze back to his carrot cake.

"We were worried sick!" Pippin exclaimed, his tone mocking a worried mother. His banter made Merry snicker and he shook his head at Pippin. "Where on earth have you been, Meriadoc Brandybuck?"

"I just had some work to do back at home," Merry replied to him in a quiet tone, fiddling with his fork and staring down at his cake. "I guess my parents were not very fond of me having too much fun at the dance. I've been helping out my father a lot."

"Did you drink too much?" Pippin teased, eliciting a soft chuckle out of you. Merry glanced at you as he heard your laughter, but he quickly avoided your gaze and shifted his eyes to Pippin. "Or did you go around too many girls and they thought you needed an intervention?"

Merry blushed and cut a piece of his cake with his fork.

"No," he muttered, eating his carrot cake, not looking up.

"Are you sure?" Pippin teased him but gave you a meaningful look. Pippin lifted his eyebrow at you, as if to question if something along those lines actually happened. You shook your head, to which Pippin nodded.

"I'm sure Mrs. and Mr. Brandybuck just want to make sure he is not just slacking off like he usually is," you jested. But Merry did not laugh. In fact, he did not react in any way. He just kept eating his carrot cake, making you once again rather concerned. This was also very unusual behavior from him, as he normally was always up for banter. You looked at Pippin, but the young Took did not seem to notice his best friend's unusual response, as he was too focused on moaning as he practically inhaled his chocolate muffin.

"So, what's our plan tonight?" you asked, looking at Merry. He did not lift his gaze. Pippin on the other hand responded with his mouth full.

"Green Dragon, please," he mumbled, mouth stuffed. "I am in need for some ale."

"Sounds good to me," you responded, the suggestion making your lips curl up into a soft smile. You kept looking at Merry. "Merry?"

Merry shrugged his shoulders, still not lifting his eyes from the cake.

"Sure, sounds fine," he said. His face looked like he was full of thoughts that were weighing on him, but you didn't want to push him too hard.

"That's settled then!" Pippin cried happily. "Shall we meet there at dusk?"

"Actually, the sooner the better," you responded. You felt uncomfortable about going back to home for even just a few hours more than was necessary. "I don't want to go home just yet. Can we go after eating these?"

"Is Gandalf still there?" Pippin asked, finishing his baked good. You gave him a nod to which Pippin reacted with a surprising amount of enthusiasm. "Amazing! Now I might be able to ask him a few things regarding his fireworks."

"You're up to something," you said, squinting your eyes at him. Pippin just smiled mischevously and gave Merry a nudge. "Finish eating faster and stop being so quiet. We want to go drinking."

You noticed you hadn't even taken a bite of your cake yet. You immediately dug in. Merry lifted his gaze finally, and he was smiling at Pippin.

"I really am craving some good brew," Merry said, his mood visibly much lighter. Whatever was on his mind he must have solved during the staring contest between him and the cake, you thought.

You made your way to the Green Dragon in no time, the sun still high up. As you entered the Inn, the familiar warmth of it filled your heart immediately, making you feel at home. The inside was mostly empty from any Shire folk, except for a few older Hobbits who seemed to have been there since morning. After ordering pints, you walked behind Pippin to a table close to the counter and sat next to him, Merry taking a seat right across from you.

"So, what is it like to live with a Wizard?" Pippin asked with child-like enthusiasm. You let out a deep sigh and took a big sip of ale.

"Excruciating. I think Gandalf hates me," you answered. "Frodo and Gandalf keep going quiet whenever I enter the room."

"Why would he hate you?" Pippin asked curiously, to which you shook your head, a puzzled and slightly sad look on your face.

"I don't know," you said, taking another sip of your slightly bitter ale, "it just feels like he does."

"I am sure he does not hate you," Merry commented, looking at you at last. "They probably just have something to discuss that just does not concern you."

Merry seemed very sure of his answer and Pippin agreed with him. You decided to ignore the uneasy feeling the whole situation with Gandalf and Frodo gave you for the time being.

A few hours passed at the Green Dragon, and slowly but surely more people had started to enter the Inn. You, Merry and Pippin had drank a few ales, Pippin clearly slightly drunk already, even though the sun was not even down yet.

"I think I should get more," Pippin said, letting out a small burp as he rocked in his chair, balancing it on two of its legs - a dangerous task for someone intoxicated.

"I think you should go home," you teased, putting your hand on his shoulder and gently pulling the chair back on all fours.

"Excuse me, Ms. Baggins, but I am not going anywhere!" Pippin declared, partly slurring his words. You laughed at his response and the two of you got into a playful argument over his drunken state.

Merry was observing the banter between you and Pippin. He was sipping his ale in silence, simply staring at the two of you. Every time you turned to look at him, his gaze shifted away, clearly avoiding looking at you in the eyes. You furrowed your brows, taken aback by his behavior. You were quickly brought back to the present as Pippin slammed his hand on your shoulder.

"Ow!" you cried out as his playful pat came across slightly more forceful than he had intended to.

"My bad! I'm sorry!" Pippin apologized profusely. "Maybe, just maybe, I am slightly more under the influence than I thought," he admitted, still resisting the idea of going home just yet.

"Maybe take the growing violence as a sign to go sleep," you snickered. Pippin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Soon he nodded his head in agreement.

"I do have some plans tomorrow that I need to get up early for," he said, struggling to get up from the chair. You stood up and helped Pippin up by his waist and shoulder.

"Alright, you fool of a Took," you said, chuckling at the situation. "Time to go home. Can you make it by yourself?" you asked, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and your hand on his waist. Pippin smiled, his eyes barely open. You shook your head and snorted, but you knew he really did have it in him to go home by himself. It was not exactly the first time he would have to make his way back home from the Green Dragon while intoxicated.

"You are wonderful," Pippin smiled, giving a playful kiss on your cheek. He made an exaggarated kissing sound as his lips left your skin and you once again cackled at his behavior. Merry was still staring at you, now with more intensity in his eyes.

"Alright, time to go home," you said to Pippin, patting his back and gently showing him the way out of the Inn. Pippin could not walk straight, but he could walk well enough to make it home safely. As he exited the door, you giggled loudly and sat back down across from Merry. "He is a piece of work," you said playfully. Merry smiled faintly, staring at his pint.

"That he is," he said in a warm and slightly amused tone, yet more quiet than he usually was.

"Look, I don't mean to pry," you started, making Merry shift in his seat, "but are you sure you're alright? You seem off."

Merry hesitated before answering.

"I am quite alright," he said, taking a big sip from his pint. He looked at you for a brief moment before looking away again.

"It's just that I haven't seen you in a while," you said, voice full of care and concern. "And you're more quiet than normal. That's all."

"I'm fine," he said in a firm tone, his fingers brushing softly against the outside of his mug.

"Alright," you responded, not quite believing him. "It's just... I have missed you. I know it's been just twelve days, but I am used to seeing you more than that, Merry."

Merry lifted his gaze, locking his blue eyes with yours. His cheeks were turning a soft pink color as he smiled at you, his hands tightly wrapped around the pint of ale in front of him.

"I've missed you too," he said warmly, this time not breaking eye contact. A sense of relief entered your body as he seemed more like his usual self. "I'm sorry for not really being present today. I've just had a lot on my mind."

"Like what?" you asked, Merry's eyes subtly narrowing for a split second.

"Just," he started, carefully choosing what to say. "Just stuff. Nothing big has been going on, really. My parents have needed my help a lot, that's all. I promise there's nothing to worry about," he continued with a reassuring smile.

You smiled back at him.

"Well, alright then," you responded, taking a sip of your ale. Merry's eyes lingered on yours for a few more seconds before he turned to look away.

Some days passed and Gandalf still was staying in Bag End. You were sitting on your bed, burrowed in your many pillows, wondering if it was worth it to sneak into the kitchen while Gandalf was outside taking a walk.

There were three knocks at your bedroom door, and soon enough your adoptive brother was peeking through the crack of the door.

“May I come in?” he asked. You gestured him to enter, and rose from your comfortable pillow pile.

“What's on your mind, Frodo?” you asked, crossing your legs and smiling at him.

“Are you uncomfortable with Gandalf being here?” Frodo asked without any hesitation. You two were comfortable with sharing almost everything, including uncomfortable thoughts.

“I am,” you responded, a small pout making an appearence on your lips. “I get the sense that I am being a burden in my own home.”

Frodo gave you a soft smile, his eyes full of sympathy and brotherly care.

“He has nothing against you,” Frodo said, gently stroking your shoulder. “He just has some important things to discuss with me, and we need some privacy for those matters. Trust me, he is fond of you.”

You sighed, fiddling with the fabric of one of your decorative pillows, tracing the embroidery on it with your fingers.

“I guess I am just used to him being more welcoming, you know?” you said. “It seems like I have been intruding on some very serious matters.”

Frodo took a moment to answer. He seemed like he had to think about what to say next very carefully.

“You haven't been intruding,” he finally stated. “But the conversations we have been having are indeed of serious matters,” he continued, making you slightly nervous.

“What kind of matters?” you inquired, making Frodo hesitate again before answering.

“Nothing for you to be concerned about for now,” he said, softly smiling, but his eyes were full of worry.

“Frodo,” you said, softly taking his hand. “What is wrong?”

Frodo looked outside your bedroom window for a moment as he sat there next to you.

“I think I am going to go see Bilbo,” he finally responded. “But I worry it is going to be a long and possibly a dangerous journey, and I might not see you for a while.”

You smiled, slightly worried but not surprised. Frodo was very fond of uncle Bilbo, and had often talked to you about his adventures and craving some of his own. But one part of this did not make sense to you.

“What does Gandalf have to do with this?” you asked. “And why is it such a serious matter that I could not be there to hear it?”

Frodo squirmed a little as he fixed his posture.

“I was worried to tell you,” he said. “Besides going on an adventure, I have considered moving back to Buckland, where I grew up.”

You felt confused. Frodo adored Bag End, and was always hissing about the Sackville-Bagginses trying to demand it. They were always complaining about Frodo inheriting it from Bilbo, as they felt like it belonged to them. And you felt like you belonged there alongside Frodo.

“But the house would be so empty without you,” you said, your voice filled with a mixture of confusion and sadness. “I don't think I can take care of it on my own, despite Sam possibly doing the gardening still.”

Frodo took a deep breath and squeezed your hand.

“I discussed selling Bag End with Gandalf,” he finally said, making your eyes widen, "to the Sackville-Bagginses, as Sam is also coming with me, and I think…”

“What?” you interrupted. He was planning on selling his home. Your home. And to Sackville-Bagginses! “You can't sell this place! I grew up here after uncle Bilbo took me in.”

Frodo looked at you, and his blue eyes were filled with sadness and guilt.

“Gandalf said he has heard the Brandybucks could use your help in Brandy Hall,” he said, brushing his thumb on the back of your hand. “And we discussed the possibility of you moving there. Your best friend would be closer to you, and you have talked about getting yourself a job.”

You just stared at him, with a heavy feeling in your heart. The more he revealed, the more everything he said was out of character for Frodo. He seemed like he was making excuses, hiding the real reason behind his plan.

“Why can't I stay here?” you asked, making Frodo sigh once more.

“It is a big house,” he said, making you frustrated, because what he was about to say next you could predict, and you knew he would be right. His next words, he once again chose very carefully. “And I don't think that you necessarily could take care of it on your own, nor do I think that you would feel comfortable with it, my dear sister.”

You pondered for a moment if you should yell at him for forcing this plan on you, or if you should perhaps go yell at Gandalf for supporting this decision. But your brother was right.

“You're right,” you finally said, filled with melancholy. “I just don't understand why you want to leave this place, and why you would make this decision without me.”

“I haven't made the decision yet, but I miss Buckland and in my heart I know I must go on an adventure and after Bilbo, no matter how dangerous it could be.”

You pouted, wondering his words for a while. You gave him a supportive nod. Your body was filled with anxiety, and you kept tracing the golden thread and its swirls on your pillow.

“I understand,” you sighed. Yet a few questions remained, bothering you. “What kind of work are the Brandybucks in need for?”

“Mostly writing down important stuff that Merry’s father has to mail and do as the Master of Buckland,” Frodo smiled. “It is a big hobbit hole with lots of families living in it, so there's also need for cooking, cleaning and gardening every now and then - for a price of course, as you would move in as an outsider, so to speak.”

“Outsider, huh?” you said, in a playfully offended tone, making Frodo laugh.

“You know what I mean,” he said, his grin wide. “They have asked some other hobbits for the job, but I am sure they would give it to you in a heartbeat.”

You thought about it for a moment.

“Is Merry aware of your plan?” you asked.

“Only Gandalf and Sam,” he said. “But I will let everyone know if I decide to go through with it.”

“You’ll let me know first, right?” you said in need of some reassurance.

“Of course,” he smiled.

“One more question,” you said, and Frodo waited nervously for your next question. “How long is Gandalf going to stay here?”

Frodo chuckled and shrugged.

“As long as it takes to finalize the plan,” he responded. “And for however long I need help with deciding which road to take when I leave for my adventure. But do not worry. I can ask him to be a little more welcoming to you. All I'm asking for is for you to trust me, and let us have our privacy. I will let you know every necessary detail.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand.

“Thank you,” you said, feeling slightly flustered about having to ask your brother to defend you, instead of just asking Gandalf yourself.

With enthusiasm, you finally bit into the chocolate muffin you had been craving for two days. You moaned your mouth full, making Merry chuckle.

“It’s so good!” you exclaimed, your words barely coherent from your mouth being so full.

“I can see that,” he smiled. “Seems like it was worth purchasing.”

“Are you kidding me? I have craved this for days!”

The smile did not leave Merry's face as he glanced at the corner of your lips.

“You have some muffin there,” he informed you, nodding his head towards your lips. You wiped it off swiftly, and thanked him for notifying you.

“Too bad Pippin couldn't make it today,” you said, taking another sizable bite of the muffin.

“Yeah,” Merry said quietly. “But we can do something even if it's the two of us, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, finishing your muffin. Merry snickered at the way you devoured your dessert in less than two minutes. “Do you have anything in your mind?”

Merry thought about it for a while, his fingernails tapping the table.

“It's a beautiful day, how does just a walk sound?” he asked.

“Wow, adventurous!” you responded sarcastically. Merry pouted, and a small blush appeared on his cheeks.

“I'm sorry, that was stupid,” he apologized awkwardly.

“What?” you chuckled. “It was a good idea. We don't always have to do something outrageous and stupid.”

Merry smiled at you, relieved.

“Alright” he said softly. “I'm sorry.”

“What do you keep apologizing for you idiot?” you laughed, amused at his behavior. “It's fine!”

Merry nodded, his face still softly flustered.

“Shall we go?” he asked, getting up before even giving you a chance to answer.

You walked for quite some time around Hobbiton, Merry curiously asking more about Gandalf's recent decision to stay in Bag End. You mentioned nothing of Frodo's plans to move out, and instead claimed that Gandalf was just bringing Frodo news of Bilbo, and decided to stay for an indefinte amount of time.

"You seem bothered by this," Merry said, regarding Gandalf's presence in your own home.

"It's fine, really!" you lied, scratching your head. "It will just take some time to get used to. You don't exactly expect a wizard to start suddenly hanging around your kitchen and living room all the time."

Merry chuckled. His eyes were following a small, bright orange butterfly that just flew right past his face, gently brushing his nose.

"Merry!" you suddenly gasped. You took his hand in yours, stopping him in his tracks. "Look!" you whispered, nudging his sleeve and pointing to your right.

At your right, there was a small fox. Its body was slender, the coppery fur looked soft, and its pointy nose was curiously sniffing the air. Your eyes were sparkling with child-like excitement as you looked at the fox. And Merry's eyes were full of admiration, but it was not the fox that he was adoring. You giddily hopped a little, but quiet enough that it didn't startle the curious creature now approaching the two of you. You slowly crouched, putting your hand in front of you in a careful manner, hoping the fox would at least come sniff you. The fox was just an arm length away, and it smelled all around your palm for a moment. Soon the fox wandered off, its fluffy tail brushing against your wrist softly as it turned around. You turned to look at Merry with a smile on your face so wide it felt like your face might just break off. He was in awe of your innocent reaction, and he smiled just as widely back at you.

"That was a cute sight," Merry said to you, grinning ear to ear.

"I touched its tail!" you giggled with joy. Merry let out a small chuckle. "I've never touched a fox before!"

"I've heard their fur is very soft," Merry said, still smiling fondly at you. "I believe you can now confirm if its true or not."

"It was the softest thing I've ever touched!" you said ecstatically, pulling on his sleeve from excitement. Merry shook his head, the smile not leaving his face.

"Do you want to keep walking?" he asked, to which you nodded and started skipping ahead, still over the moon from the interaction with the small forest creature. Merry followed you behind, his hands in his pockets.

Soon you turned around and skipped back to walk alongside Merry.

"I'm sad that Pippin missed this," you sighed. "I feel like he would've loved to witness this. Why could he not come today?"

Merry didn't answer straight away, but soon his posture shrank a little as he looked at you.

"About that," he said quietly, clearing his throat, mumbling a little as he spoke. "I might have exaggarated the reason Pippin couldn't come here."

"What? What was the real reason?" you asked curiously.

Merry cleared his throat again, not daring to look you in the eyes.

"I just wanted to spend some time alone with you, that's all," he said.

"Oh, why is that?" you asked.

Merry's freckles were suddenly surrounded by a growing blush, and Merry was struggling with his words.

"I just," he muttered. "I guess I just needed some space from Pippin. I've seen him a lot more recently, and I have barely seen you at all."

You couldn't shake the feeling that Merry was not telling you the whole truth, but you decided to let it pass.

"Well, everybody needs some space sometimes," you said. "If you ever need space from me, just let me know."

Merry's gaze immediately left the ground and he turned to look at you again.

"I don't think that will be necessary," he said.

"Well, if it ever becomes necessary, just let me know!"

Merry gave you half a smile and changed the subject back to the fox. You got giddy again, and explained in detail what the fur on the fluffy tail felt like against your wrist. Even when you were walking around him aimlessly, explaining every second of your excitement as you touched the fox, Merry could not take his eyes off you.

Chapter Text

Something was missing. Maybe it was the sharp edges of the fox's tail that were bothering you?

You used your thumb to smudge the fur around a little, spreading the charcoal around the paper, making the tail puffier and more realistic looking. You looked at the paws of the fox, squinting your eyes at the small mistakes you had made. You were scared of ruining the whole picture, so instead you kept your attention mainly on the tail, your tongue slightly sticking out between your lips as you concentrated.

After making the finishing touches, you took a small step back to observe the finished product.

"That looks good," said Merry suddenly behind you, making your heart jump to your throat.

"Merry!" you gasped, startled. "You scared me! Where did you come from?"

"I actually watched you make it for the last five minutes," he confessed, snickering. "You were quite focused, and I didn't want to bother you."

"I really did not hear you come in at all," you said, heart still beating fast from the sudden appearence of your friend. You took the pile of the faintly yellow papers you had tied onto a wooden board on your paint covered easel, and placed them on your desk.

"What's this?" asked Merry, taking the third drawing from the pile.

Merry was looking at the charcoal sketches. There were sparks in his eyes. He was visibly impressed.

Two of the sketches he kept admiring more than the others. One of them was quite a detailed drawing of his hand. The other drawing was a sketch of his side profile, the curls framing his face and his gaze on the horizon. A faint smile you had drawn on his face, and the collar of his shirt was a little unkept, as it usually tended to be.

"I've been feeling very inspired today," you said, fiddling with the lace of your corset. Merry noticed your sign of anxiety, and a small smile appeared on his face. He knew you were very picky and self concious about your own art.

"It's very impressive," he said, adoring your art work, wondering how you managed to draw him with such accuracy. "Is my collar always that unkept?" he asked as he observed the picture, immediately fixing the collar on the shirt he was wearing.

"Most of the time," you snickered, to which Merry responded by trying to fix his shirt a little more. You shook your head, and stepped closer to him. "Let me fix that," you said, your hands on his cotton collar now. Merry inhaled deeply.

"Thank you," he said as you fixed his shirt.

"It's not always bad if you're a little unkept," you smiled, tapping on his now straightened up collars. "It makes you look less formal and serious. It makes you more, well, Merry."

Merry smiled at you softly and cleared his throat as he took one small step back to put a little bit of space between you two.

"You have some charcoal there," he smirked, tapping his cheek. You wiped your cheek softly with the back of your hand.

"Did I get it?" you asked, making Merry snort.

"Not exactly," he said and took a red handkerchief from his pocket. He cupped your left cheek with his hand, and with the other he slowly cleaned off the charcoal you had just spread accidentally. "There you go," he said, looking at you with a soft expression before letting go of your face.

"What are you doing here anyway?" you asked Merry, wiping your hands on your dress.

"I wanted to see you," he responded, his expression slightly nervous. "I was thinking… I know how you feel about being challenged, and I… well, I have a challenge for you."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

Merry took a deep breath. He didn't know what drove him to think his plan was a good one, but he was confident about it.

"I think we should go to the Bywater pool," he suggested carefully. "And maybe test out walking in the more shallow water."

Your heart started beating fast, and your breath hitched.

"Merry," you said, immediately fidgeting with your fingers and shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

"I am not going to force you to do it," he said, "but I am going to challenge you to do it. And there's no need to be nervous. We can go just ankle deep, and I will be there every step of the way."

"I don't know, Merry. Why would I?" you said with a loud gulp and your body tensing up more. He took your hand and held it tightly, stroking your thumb with his in a calming manner.

"I know you can do it," he said, but then a mischevous smile took shape on his face. "Or maybe you can't. Maybe I overestimated you."

And with that he struck a nerve. He overestimated you? Absolutely not.

"I can do it," you said in a serious manner, pulling your hand back to your side. You immediately started stomping out of your bedroom with determination.

Merry smiled to himself and followed your fast paced and confident walking all the way outside of Bag End, and towards Bywater.

The closer you got to the Bywater pool, the more shaky you got, your anxiety growing with every step you took. Your breathing was slightly shallow, but you kept trying to steady it. Your heart was beating fast and it felt uneven. Your thoughts were unkept and bouncing from one scary thought to another.

You stopped. Merry made his way next to you. You took a deep, trembling breath.

The water was reflecting the bright blue sky and the pond stood absolutely still. On the more shallow end was a rock bottom, and in the middle of the pond, you knew there was mud underneath the surface. It scared you. You feared it might swallow you whole.

Merry squeezed your hand to support you and gave you a soft nudge.

"You can do this," he reassured.

Your heart was beating faster and faster. You were hesitating, even though the urge to prove you could indeed go in the water was strong. You fiddled with your corset again, trying to gather up the courage to walk in there, and go at least ankle deep into the cold water.

Merry took a deep breath after a while and squeezed your hand more tightly.

"I'm sorry," he said. You immediately turned your gaze sharply in his direction. "I believe in you and I'm sorry for what I am about to do."

And with that, Merry put his arms around your waist tightly and picked you up, your upper body resting on his shoulder.

"Merry!" you cried. "What are you doing?"

Merry rushed the both of you into the pond with a tight grip on your waist as you kicked your feet in the air.

"I know you can do this," he said, now ankle deep in the water.

"No, I can't! Put me down!"

"That's the plan," he responded, lifting you so that you faced him. Your chests were pressed together and your nose almost touched his. "I am going to put you down now."

"No!" you cried, shaking your head vigorously. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest, and Merry could feel it hammering against him.

"Trust me," he said, looking you deep in your eyes. There was confidence in his eyes as he kept reassuring you, your faces just inches apart. "I'll put you down slowly. There's nothing to worry about. I'm right here. All you need to do is breathe."

You took a deep breath. His reassuring and confident gaze made you slightly more relaxed. After all, he did know you better than anyone else. You gave him a small nod, your fingers trembling.

Slowly he began to lower you and your arms immediately clung around his neck. You were shaking, but your breathing was getting more steady in his comforting embrace.

Inch by inch, he lowered your body towards the water, not breaking eye contact, giving you a reassuring look.

Your toes hit the cold water, making you shut your eyes tightly.

"Its alright," he said calmly, lowering you until your feet hit the bottom. His arms slowly started to move off your waist. He decided to keep his palms softly on your middle, making sure you can stand steady. "See? You're doing it."

You opened your eyes and looked at your feet. There they were, under the water which looked magical now that the sunlight made it sparkle like diamonds. It was probably shiny before, but you hadn't noticed it that moment. You curled your toes, pulling some rough sand and tiny rocks between them. Your heartbeat regulated, and your breath was balanced again.

"I did it," you whispered in shock. Your eyes widened and a radiant smile formed on your lips. "I did it!"

"Yes, you did."

You jumped into his arms, your arms wrapping around his neck again. A loud giggle left your mouth, and your ears softly fluttered from joy. The water splashed loudly as you hopped out of Merry's embrace. You waded around a little, enjoying the feeling of the wet sand and cold bottom of the pond under your feet. The feeling of accomplishment overwhelmed you with glee.

"Thank you!" you giggled, thrilled about what felt like the most courageous act you had ever done.

"Next time we can go knee deep," Merry said.

"Hold your horses, Meriadoc!" you responded, pointing your finger at him. "This was already terrifying and a huge step. Lets just enjoy this for now."

Merry chuckled and put his hands in his pockets, kicking his feet in the water, splashing it around in small doses.

"I felt like it was time to try and beat at least a small fraction of your fears," he said warmly. "I strongly believe that you can eventually get over this fear."

"Maybe," you responded, your eyes fixated on the water and sparkling with excitement.

You were amazed by how calming the water felt when you weren't completely buried in it. The cool splashes when you walked around felt ticklish but relaxing, and the waves that formed by the kicking of Merry's feet were captivating. The reflection of the sky felt like you walked into a dream, and the sparkle of the sunlight reminded you of the expensive glimmer of jewelry.

The following day you walked to the Green Dragon on your own. It was a rainy day, and you had been feeling a little blue. It was very quiet at home, as Gandalf was wandering outside with Frodo in the grey weather. The Green Dragon felt like a good chance to get some fresh air, with the hope of possibly meeting some friends there.

You entered the Green Dragon, your curls dripping with water and your coat soaked from the downpour.

To your surprise, you noticed almost all of your friends were there, already sitting together.

By a small booth in a dark corner were Samwise, Pippin, Merry and to your surprise, Fatty Bolger. It was a surprise indeed, as you were under the impression that Fatty was still holding a grudge against Merry for breaking the heart of Estella, his beloved little sister.

Pippin noticed you first and gestured towards your direction, each of them turning to look at you. You smiled at them and made your way to the table.

"Hullo," Pippin said, smiling softly to you. Everyone else was quiet and shifting in their seats.

"Am I interrupting something?" you asked after a moment of awkwardness. Their silence made you feel uncomfortable, yet curious.

"Not at all," answered Fredegar. His dark hair was unkept and his vest old, with a small hole on the front of it. "I was just about to leave."

"Alright," you said quietly and Fredegar got up in one swift movement. He was suspiciously quick with his feet, and before he exited the Green Dragon, he gave a meaningful look to the rest of the group. "What was that about?" you asked.

"It was nothing," said Pippin, as he patted the spot next to him as a gesture for you to sit down.

"We were just discussing something private," Merry responded, to which Sam reacted by elbowing him softly. Merry looked at him, furrowing his brows.

"Private matters that concern only Fatty, he means," said Samwise.

You couldn't help but feel like your friend was lying straight to your face. You looked at Pippin and Merry. Both of them nodded in unison, confirming Sam's explanation to you. Yet, your gut was telling you it was not the whole truth.

"Is there something I should know?" you asked.

Merry shifted his gaze to Pippin, clearly looking for guidance on how to respond to your questioning.

"It's like he said," Merry responded. "It was just something that Fatty wants to keep private."

"Is he no longer angry at you?" you asked Merry, making him shift in his chair again. "About Estella, I mean?"

"No, not at all."

You looked at all of them, one by one. You took note of little irregularities in their body languages.

Sam was furrowing his brows more than normal, and his fingers were tapping the sides of his pint. Merry was shifting his position ever so slightly whenever you looked at him, whilst Pippin was looking at you with an overexaggerated grin. They were lying.

"Well, that's good!" you finally responded. You took a long sip of your drink. You could see everyone at the table relax a little, as they thought they had convinced you that nothing was out of the ordinary.

You all sat there in silence for a few uncomfortable minutes, until Sam opened his mouth in a long sigh.

"Well, I should get going," he said, getting up slowly. "I have some more work to do in Bag End."

"I thought you finished your work early today?" you said, giving him a questioning look. Sam scratched his head.

"Well, yes, but mister Frodo asked me to plant a few tulips near the entrance."

You looked at Sam, not blinking. He stared at you, his face flushed.

"Sam? It’s pouring rain," you said, trying to pull the truth out of your friend.

"Well, I should be going now," he said with a gentle smile. "I'll see you later, miss."

Samwise made his way out of the Green Dragon, and as your attention was at Sam, Pippin was smirking at Merry. You turned around only when you heard Merry smack Pippin on his shoulder.

"Well, I also need to be somewhere," Pippin said, bouncing over Merry and getting out of the booth.

"You too?" you said, now even more suspicious.

"Yes, I have places to be," Pippin said, taking his damp coat off the empty chair next to you.

"Where? What places?" you asked firmly, but with the same soft tone you always used when you tried to reel the truth out of Peregrin.

"Places," Pippin said and looked at Merry and you. He smiled wide. "Have fun," he continued. He walked away and left you two alone.

Merry glanced at you and then shifted his gaze to his half finished drink. He was brushing his fingers around the small cracks on the handle of the wooden pint he was holding.

"Merry," you said in a low, quiet voice, trying to make eye contact with him, "what was all that really about?"

Merry huffed and looked up from his pint, still not directly at you.

"It's like they said," Merry responded, his eyes scanning around the room. "Just some personal stuff of Fatty's."

"I think you're lying," you said firmly, but gently. He still wouldn't look at you. "But if you don't want to talk about it, I understand. I guess I'm just concerned that I have done something wrong.

Merry finally looked at you, bewildered.

"Why would you have done something wrong?" he inquired. You shrug your shoulders, and he smiled compassionately. "You haven't done anything wrong. It's just a private matter, that's all. Nothing for you to worry about. I promise."

You kept analyzing the changes in his posture, the way he worded things and even the way he looked at you. You were still sure that your friends were hiding something, but you decided to trust his word.

"Are you in a rush to leave too?" you asked, immediately sneezing afterwards. You were uncomfortable and shivering from being so drenched from the downpour outside.

"You're shivering!" Merry said, concerned, moving closer to you in the booth. He took his dry coat off and wrapped it around you.

"Thank you," you sniffled. Merry tried to warm you up by rubbing his hand on your back over the coat. "You didn't answer my question."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said warmly. "If you want to spend time with me, that is."

You smiled and leaned your head against his shoulder, making him shudder a little. You furrowed your brows a little as it was odd, but you deducted it must've been from the wet hair that hit his skin.

"Can I... I've been meaning to talk to you about something for a few weeks now," Merry suddenly said. Your head was still resting on his shoulder as you answered him.

"What's on your mind?" you asked softly.

A silence followed as Merry was struggling to find a way to ask you something of a delicate nature. Finally he cleared his throat.

"Have you ever felt different?" he asked.

"What?" you chuckled, puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"

Merry took a deep breath and huffed, trying to gather his composure and to find a better way to express his thoughts.

"Have you ever suddenly felt different about something?" he asked, his voice quiet. He took pauses between every sentence, clearly struggling to put his thoughts into words. "Have you ever started to notice new details about something? Like, you were always used to it being a certain way but now suddenly it's just different?”

You lifted your head off his shoulder and looked at him, still confused.

"I still don't quite know what you mean."

Merry let out a sigh, leaning back a little for a more comfortable position.

"Have you ever looked at something differently and thought to yourself: was this here all along and I just never noticed it?" he said. "And it felt natural. Almost like that thing was supposed to be that way all along, but it just took you some time to notice? That it took time to start seeing it from a new perspective?"

You thought about his words for a moment.

"I suppose," you finally said. Merry looked at you, analyzing your expression as you responded. You thought about his question a little more, and Merry's mood seemed to grow a little nervous. "My favorite book was that way. As a book it was alright, I thought. Then after reading it for a second time, I noticed how much I actually enjoyed reading it. Is that what you meant?"

Merry's lips pouted a little, his brows furrowed in what seemed like disappointment, and he sighed loudly. He finished his beer, again no longer looking your way.

"Almost, but no. That is not what I meant," he said quietly.

"Then what did you mean?" you asked, now even more baffled. Merry shook his head, his posture restless.

"It was nothing important. Just something stupid I've been thinking about. I'm going to get another ale."

Merry got up and took his empty pint with him. He walked to the counter. His spirit seemed to have shrunk. As he got to the counter and sat down on one of the high chairs set in front of the bar, he glanced at you quickly over his shoulder before turning away.

Chapter Text

In the distance were dark clouds, and the deep sound of thunder rumbling could be heard. The seemingly endless rows of corn stalks were slowly swaying with the wind. The stalks were greener than when you last saw them, and they seemed to have started to get closer to their last stages of growth.

The book in your hand had captivated you, and your mind seemed to have sunken into the letters on the page, making your surroundings quiet and the story so much more exciting. The low drumming of thunder in the distance snapped you out of your trance-like state and you closed the book.

You started climbing down the huge boulder, every step careful since it was decently high. You made your way down, your feet sinking into the soft dirt again. Sighing, you started making your way out and through the dense rows of corn. The approaching thunder made the path under the high growing stalks much darker, and you were hoping you would not get lost, as you barely found your way back in without Merry's help.

Some time after you made it through the cornfield, the thunder seemed to be creeping closer. The wind picked up its pace and the air felt pressuring, giving you a slight headache. It was a warm day, so you didn't mind the wind. Yet, of course you didn't want to get caught up in a thunderstorm, so you picked up your pace, almost running forth.

You made your way back to Hobbiton, but didn't quite reach home when the downpour began. You decided to go inside the familiar building across from you.

You greeted the pastry shop owner with the same smile you always did, and she offered you some freshly baked carrot cake once again.

An hour went by and the storm was right on top of you. The rain was loud, the thunder was almost deafening and the clouds created a veil of darkness all over Hobbiton.

You had been reading the book since you first sat down and you finally finished it. Two days it took; yet you found yourself hoping that the book had never ended.

It was a book filled with romance. The kind of romance you had always dreamed of. The kind you never thought you would find. You craved the warm feeling the characters had with each other, and the devotion they had for one another was something you deeply desired. The book gave you a hollow feeling of missing something you feared you might never have, and it felt like an escape from a harsh reality before you read the last words on its pages.

In these thoughts you dwelled for fifteen minutes more. You thought that maybe it just was not something that was written in the stars for you, considering that after all, all of your romantic conquests before had been nothing but dreams that felt wrong and eventually shattered. Every past romance was to you a sad memory of what never could have been, but what you wished you had felt.

"Fancy seeing you here!" you suddenly heard Merry say as he entered the pastry shop, soaked from head to toe.

"Merry!" you said cheerfully, happy to see your best friend so unexpectedly. Merry smiled at you widely. You could hear the floor squeak under his wet feet, and his breathing was loud and uneven.

"I saw you and ran here," he panted, now resting his palms on his knees and steadying his breath. "I was on my way to go see Sam."

You gestured Merry to sit down with you. He took a moment to shake off the wetness of his hair and to try and squeeze the top layer of his clothes dry.

"Why would you leave home in this weather?" you asked him.

"I had plans with Sam," he repeated, taking off his yellow embroidered waistcoat to dry it. "But the weather got worse so I gradually made my way closer."

"What plans did you have with Sam?" you asked while he was setting his coat to dry on the back of a chair.

"That doesn't matter," he said, sitting down. "What matters is this; what are you reading?"

Merry took the book that was still laid down on the table right in front of you. He looked at the front and back of the hard covered book before opening it to the first page. He was processing the text, taking in the summary of the plot. His elbows were on the table and his right hand was holding the book open. He lifted up his left hand to bite the fingernail on his thumb as he read.

"It's a good book," you said, voice slightly melancholic. "Yet, it makes me sad."

Merry took one quick look at you, soon returning his eyes to the book. He then closed it silently and put it back on the table.

"Have you finished it?" he asked, admiring the quick flashes of lightning outside.

"I have," you responded. "I actually finished it a moment before you got here."

"Did it have a sad ending?" Merry asked you, his arms now crossed as he was leaning back in his chair, balancing on it and rocking back and forth.

"It actually had quite a happy ending," you responded.

Merry turned to look at you. He stopped moving in his chair.

"Then why does it make you sad?" he asked curiously, to which you shrug your shoulders.

"I don't know," you said with a thoughtful look on your face. "I mean, I think I know, but it's quite a sad thought and I don't feel like being a downer."

Merry looked at you with concern and moved closer towards you, the legs on his chair dragging loudly against the floor.

"Talk to me," he said warmly.

"I guess it just frustrates me," you opened up. "You know, knowing that love like that only exists in great stories. At least for me. I have always dreamed of finding something of that level of love and devotion, yet now that I read this book, I don't think it actually exists. Not for me."

"Why?" Merry asked with a neutral expression, but his lips slightly curled downwards.

"I mean, we have talked about this before, Merry. The certain empty feeling with people. Never having felt content with anyone before. The more I spent time in my head after finishing this book, the darker my thoughts became. It just makes me feel like I'm missing something."

Merry looked at you, his eyes sad and his soft half-smile showing unwavering support and compassion.

"I think we all have someone special meant for us," he said. "There is someone for everyone. Someone who makes everyday chores feel less burdening, and someone who makes you smile without even having to try. Someone who knows you like the back of their hand, and who makes all the troubles in life feel, well, less troubling. Someone who never makes you feel empty. It just might take some time to find that person. Or to notice them. To really see them."

You smiled at him, his words warming up your heart and reassuring you once again.

"You are wise, Merry," you said softly, "and you sound more confident about this matter than before. How can you be so sure?"

Merry stayed quiet for a while. The look on his face was that one look you were not yet familiar with. The new look he had on his face at the dance in Brandy Hall. Soon he responded with a reassuring smile.

"I just know," he said. "Our conversation back then when we were smoking pipe-weed and many conversations since have given me some new perspectives. No matter how scary those perspectives might feel."

"Why would they feel scary?" you inquired, trying to discreetly analyze that new look on his face. Maybe it was one of newfound confidence?

"Because sometimes-," Merry said, but did not finish. His voice went quiet and he instead turned his gaze back outside, where the storm was still watering the Shire and swaying the trees.

"Sometimes what?" you asked. Merry did not respond. "And also, what other conversations have we had about this matter? I don't believe there are too many."

Merry turned to look at you again.

"Oh, not only you. I also discussed this stuff with Pippin."

"And what did Pippin say?" you asked with a small smirk. "If Peregrin Took has gone and become so wise that he erased your insecurities, I must know!"

Merry laughed, relaxing more.

"He is sometimes surprisingly smart," Merry said, his face full of amusement and his lips in a wide smile. "He just expanded my view."

"Do you want to elaborate more?" you asked.

"No, but I would like to ask something important," he said with utmost seriousness.

"What is it?" you asked him, slightly surprised at his serious tone. He took a deep breath before answering you.

"How many of those cookies do you think I can fit in my mouth at once?" he asked, pointing to the counter.

You let out a whole hearted laugh. Merry always knew how to say just the right thing to make you eventually laugh so hard that your stomach would start hurting.

"I don't know. Should we put that to the test?"

"I believe so," smirked Merry. "We have time to kill during this storm and I believe this is a good way to spend the remaining time."

"See? I was correct!" you giggled, pointing at Merry's lips with your mouth. "You can't fit more than six!"

Merry's mouth was filled with round cookies, and his behavior gave him the looks of a squirrel harvesting nuts in its cheeks. Crumbs were falling out of his mouth as he tried to speak.

"I can fit more!" he mumbled, barely making any sense as the cookies affected his ability to speak properly. He took one more vanilla cookie from the plate placed in front of you and started shoving it between his lips.

"You will choke!" you pointed out, laughing.

Merry kept pushing the seventh cookie in his mouth, until he finally got it on top of the other ones he had stashed and smiled wide, cookie crumbs flying everywhere. Merry lifted his hands up victoriously while you were holding your stomach from laughing hard.

"I told you!" he cheered incoherently, until his reflexes made him spit most of the cookies out.

"That's disgusting!" you giggled, eyes watering and cheeks red. Your face was hurting from smiling so much.

Merry wiped his mouth, took a napkin and placed the cookie pieces inside it, throwing it in a trash can.

"Now it's your turn."

"Excuse me?" you answered, lifting your eyebrow and wiping the tears of laughter out of the corners of your eyes. "You might want to look like an idiot, but that's not one of my plans today."

"Of course," Merry said with a mischievous grin. "I knew you wouldn't have the guts."

You narrowed your gaze, his challenge tempting you. You chuckled softly, shaking your head and your face relaxing again.

"You know I could beat you, right?" you said smugly. "It's just cookies. How hard can it be?"

"Then take on the challenge," Merry smirked, pushing the plate across the table towards your direction. "Fit eight cookies in your mouth and win - since you're so confident."

You looked at the plate of cookies, wondering if you really could win him in this challenge.

"This challenge is stupid," you said after a moment, pushing the plate back towards him.

"I knew it!" Merry shouted loudly, slamming his hands on the table with a smug look on his face. "I knew you wouldn't take on this challenge! You can't handle it."

"Give me that," you said immediately and pulled the cookies back in front of you.

Without a second thought, you started pushing the cookies into your mouth, one by one. You weren't able to enjoy the vanilla flavored delight for long, and by the fourth cookie your mouth already was full. You tried shoving a fifth one between your teeth, failing miserably. Merry was smirking at you and you felt the defeat approaching. And yet, you didn't want to give up.

"Just give up," Merry laughed, satisfied by his clear win. "You can't do it."

You responded by trying to force the cookie in your mouth for ten more seconds, but then you threw the cookie back on the plate and spat the remaining bits out of your mouth into a napkin.

"Fine! I give up," you groaned with a pout, crossing your arms.

"Yes!" Merry cried, jumping up from his chair, his hands up in the air. He did a small victory lap around the table before sitting back down. He immediately noticed your face, smirking at your frustration. "Oh, come on now, don't be a sore loser. You did just fine. I just happen to be the master at these things."

You gave him a side-eye, face serious. You felt a smile trying to form on your lips, but you wanted to see if you could make him give up his victory. Merry noticed your plan and started mirroring your facial expression and position. He crossed his arms and pouted, looking straight into your eyes. The corner of your mouth twitched, and you could feel the laughter trying to escape your throat. He took notice of this, and he made an exaggerated sound of a muffled laughter, which sounded to you more like a confused dog barking at a chicken - and on that note you cracked up into a loud laughter, no longer able to keep your playfully furious composure.

"You're so frustrating!" you shouted, your face full of amusement and joy.

"That is my job," he said proudly. "I do like annoying you, because I know I can make you laugh just as fast."

"That's not true!" you responded, a shocked look on your face, whilst fully aware he was right.

"Yes it is, and you know it!" Merry teased gleefully.

The thunder was still rumbling outside. A loud strike of lightning made you flinch, driving your laughter away for a moment. Merry looked at you with concern.

"That was loud," you stated, shaking off the momentary fear the loud thundering sparked in you.

"Are you alright?" Merry asked you.

You nodded and you started to admire the way the rain was pouring down, creating a hazy view outside the window. Suddenly two tea cups were placed in front of you and Merry.

"This is for you," said the owner of the shop warmly. She smiled meaningfully at you and Merry. "On the house."

"Oh, there's no need!" you said modestly. The old Hobbit shook her finger.

"No, miss. You two spend so much time here that I think you deserve a little treat in this awful weather. Besides, you bought most of my cookies. You need tea to chase it down."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Merry, bowing his head at her in a friendly manner. She smiled at him and walked to the office behind the counter, closing the door behind her.

The tea was served in a beautiful, light pink porcelain cup. It had golden swirls on it that went all around the cup, reminding you of vines of ivy wrapping around a wooden pillar. The tea smelled sweet and cinnamony, and with it came a sense of calm.

"This smells amazing," you declared quietly, taking a long sip of the warm tea. You closed your eyes to savor every part of the flavor that hit your tongue in the most satisfying manner. As you opened your eyes, you caught Merry staring at you. He quickly moved his gaze away and took a sip of his own tea.

"It tastes wonderful," he said, his fingertips tapping the edge of the porcelain cup, the sound surrounding him with a nervous aura.

You took a glance at your book, which was still laying on the table. You smiled softly. You thought about a chapter in the book; one where the main character was at a ball, dancing with the man of his dreams. Then you thought back to the night of the dance at Brandy Hall earlier in the year. You pondered for one moment if you should have invited Pippin's sister to dance - after all, she did look stunning that night.

"Do you think I would have had a shot with Pervinca, if I invited her to dance back at Brandy Hall that night?" you asked Merry, playing with the idea of 'what if'. He responded with a quiet, mumbling sound.

You took another sip, enjoying the playful dance of cinnamon and vanilla in your mouth. You kept admiring the view outside, and despite the rough rain, it was beautiful, and the grass of the Shire looked greener than ever before. You turned your eyes back to Merry to ask him something, and you caught him staring at you again. This time he did not turn his gaze away.

"Are you alright?" you asked. Merry had a look on his face you had now seen a few times, but every time you saw it, it confused you even more. Except this time, there was a hint of pain in his eyes, so you decided to confront him. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

This straightforward question made Merry visibly more nervous and uncomfortable. He switched his position several times in the span of seconds, his fingers were tapping the tea cup in rapid motions and his cheeks were slightly flushed. He was blinking fast, and his eyes were locked on yours. He opened his mouth as if to respond, but he closed it just as fast. You had never seen him like this before.

"I'm just-" he mumbled, his voice shaky. He didn't continue.

"Merry?" you asked. "What's wrong?"

Merry kept quiet, his movements almost uncontrollably unsteady as he switched his position constantly, his breathing shallow and heavy.

"I can't," he said, his voice quiet and breath unsteady. "I have to."

"Merry? Please tell me what's wrong. You're freaking me out."

You had never seen him like this. You weren't sure if he was having a seizure, or if he was having a breakdown. You didn't know if he was about to blow up like a firework, or if he was about to perhaps burst into a sudden dance. You tried to take his hand to comfort him, but the second your fingers brushed against the back of his hand, he pulled his hands away from you, the tea cup and the table.

"I have to go," he said quietly. Merry got up in a haste, gathering his things as you kept calling his name.

"Merry! What's wrong?" you said, now panicking about the behavior of your best friend. "Please, talk to me!"

But Merry was shaking and non-responsive. He put on his coat and walked outside into the storm. Your concern for him was overwhelming you, so you gathered your things and followed him.

His steps were quick and he was running his hand through his curls as he walked away from your direction. The thunder was still directly above you and the rain was violently slamming against the ground. You barely had time to see where he went, as the veil created by the falling rain was obstructing the visibility of your surroundings. You saw his dark blonde curls disappear behind a corner and you sprinted after him.

You ran as fast as you could to catch up with him, and as you finally saw his green coat, you grabbed him by his shoulder and forced him to turn around.

"Talk to me!" you yelled at him, full of concern. "Please! You're making me worried."

"I can't," he said in desperation. "I just can't. Not this time."

His face was full of gloom, and there seemed to be quiet pain behind his eyes. The way he looked at you was the same look from the dance once again, except this time it was much more intense. It was so intense, it felt like his sorrow was piercing through you.

"Please, talk to me. I feel so confused. You act normal one day, and the next day you pull away. I don't understand. Talk to me, please! I'm your best friend. You can-"

"That's the problem!" he cried, his voice slightly cracking up. He pulled his shoulder back from your grasp. He ran his hands through his hair, slightly pulling the strands of curls as he did so.

"What do you mean that's the problem?" you responded, confused and distraught. It felt like your best friend didn't trust you anymore, and you could not connect the dots on why he wasn't able to speak to you about whatever he had on his mind. It was devastating you. "Please, Merry. You're scaring me."

Merry switched the balance between his feet swiftly, his nervousness more visible by every passing second.

"I can't talk to you about this. I can't," he panicked as you kept demanding an explanation.

"Merry, please. Don't shut me out. If I did something-"

"You didn't do anything!" he cried out, pulling his hair.

The rain was soaking you both, but the intensity of the situation didn't give you any time to pay attention to the uncomfortable feeling of your wet clothes clinging onto your skin. The thunder was rumbling in the background as you stared at your best friend, who seemed to be having some sort of a melt down.

"Then tell me what's wrong! You know you can trust me. I am your best friend, Merry!"

"That's what scares me! You're my best friend, I'm not supposed to..."

You looked at him, puzzled. Your heart was pounding from your nerves taking over and the anxiety was filling up your body and mind. Merry wasn't looking at you. He was visibly confused, hurt and frustrated, all at once. He was pacing back and forth as you watched him helplessly.

"What scares you?" you asked, shouting over the drumming of the thunder.

Merry let out a frustrated groan, as he kept walking around in small circles aimlessly. He kept pulling his hair, his expression desperate and he was clearly at loss for words. His mind was spiraling and he was avoiding the pressure of your gaze. The raindrops sounded like small stone pebbles falling to the ground as the storm grew heavier and heavier around you; and yet, you had no desire to go inside to safety. Your priority was to help your best friend.

"All of this scares me!" he shouted over the rain, looking into your eyes and taking a sharp step towards you. His voice was filled with frustration and sadness. "I'm not supposed to... I've never looked at you this way before, and it scares me!"

You went silent. None of his words made sense to you. There was only one explanation that was possible, but you refused to understand it.

"Looked at me in what way?" you asked. Your mind was spiraling, trying to come up with any other possibility than what you now started to piece together; what you refused to keep piecing together.

And with a huge flash and a bang, a tree fell ten feet from you and Merry. The storm was rapidly getting worse, and the loud sound made by the lightning hitting a tree had made you squat down, cover your ears with your hands, and shut your eyes tight.

Merry lifted you up to your feet, supporting you from under your arms, and he started rushing with you towards Bag End. He had one arm around you, and his free hand was pulling his coat over his head to cover himself from the worst of the rain.

The sprint to Bag End was the fastest you had ever run, and Merry kept looking at you to make sure you're safe the whole way to your home. You bursted through the front door loudly, closing it immediately behind you. You were drenched and shivering, and your mind was still spiraling.

"What on earth were you two doing outside in this weather?" asked a low, friendly voice immediately after you burst into your home.

Gandalf stood there, shaking his head and smiling warmly. The wizard was so tall he had to lean downwards a little, so that his head wouldn't hit the ceiling. His pointy hat made him so much taller that he had decided to not wear it inside Bag End anymore, just to be able to walk around more comfortably.

"We got stuck inside the bakery," you responded, out of breath, followed by a sneeze.

"Oh dear," said Gandalf, taking off your coat. He offered you a felt blanket from a small chair next to the front door, and you wrapped it around yourself for warmth and comfort. Gandalf smiled compassionately. "Frodo and I have been drinking tea for quite some time, but I believe there is still some left. Would you two like some to warm you up?"

"I think I need to change and take a warm bath," you responded, sneezing again. Your whole body was trembling, and the cold and wet streaks of water kept falling off the curls on your head, making you squirm everytime they slid down the bare parts of your skin.

"I believe young Meriadoc will be able to borrow some dry clothes from Frodo," Gandalf smiled, to which Merry nodded, his face serious and melancholic.

Gandalf started to walk towards the kitchen, dodging anything hanging from the ceiling every now and then. Merry put his coat on the tall, wooden coat rack and started to follow Gandalf.

"Merry? Can we please-" you said, your voice shaking. You were trembling from the cold as Merry turned to look your way, but then he made his way to your kitchen, leaving you standing there alone in confusion, feeling helpless. You were left there with the fear of losing your best friend.

Chapter Text

Every Hobbit from the nearby hills was there to help. Others picked up the squashed crops one by one, while some helped by picking up tree branches off the property.

The day after the storm was foggy and warm. The air was filled with the sound of busy Hobbits, who were all eager to help the poor family, whose yard the big tree fell onto.

You picked up a few more wet and thin branches out of the way. Quickly you joined the large group of Hobbits to try and lift the tree, so it would stop blocking the red front door of the little Hobbit hole.

"Ready? On three," guided Fatty with his sister, and as they counted up to three, you made sure to have a sturdy grip under the trunk of the fallen tree. It was rough and wet, and heavier than it looked.

It took less than five seconds for all of you to realize that moving it by hand was a rather impossible task for little Hobbits.

You could hear a few of the older folks plan a device to lift the trunk with, but such things were not your area of expertise; so you decided to keep gathering the small and lighter branches out of the yard and gravel path.

A few feet away from you was Merry, picking up some trash that had spread during the storm. It was mostly just pieces of parchment or moldy bread, but the surroundings of the fallen tree were filled with them.

You caught him looking in your direction a couple of times, but every time you tried to lock eyes with him, he turned his face away. The tension between you two was killing you, and all you wanted to do was talk to him; to confront him about what he told you the day before. Your heart was hurting. Never had you and Merry gotten into a situation like this before; every small bicker you had as friends was always fixed immediately, but the sadness of this tension already felt like it had lasted forever.

Every time you took a step towards his direction, he took one away from you. The way he was avoiding you made you feel uneasy and hurt, but you didn't want to break his boundaries; whether or not his words meant what you thought they might mean, it was a sensitive subject to him.

"Is everything alright?" asked the familiar voice of your brother near you. Frodo sounded neutral, but his eyes were of concern. "You look a little distracted and blue."

You shrug your shoulders, and kept picking up the branches, piling them into a wooden wheelbarrow next to you. Frodo tended to be worried about you more often than not, and normally you were more than happy to put his mind at ease by either talking about it or brushing it off, but this was the first time you did not feel like speaking up at all.

Frodo noticed the unusual silence and the melancholic state you were in, and he carefully approached you, asking what was on your mind.

"I'll manage," was the only thing you responded to him, as you kept cleaning up the remains of the thunderstorm.

The bright sun was peeping through the clouds and the fog, trying to bring Hobbiton back to its normal, happy and warm May presence.

To your left, were several Hobbits now lifting up the tree by some sort of a wooden lever they had built, and Gandalf had appeared to assist them.

"What is Gandalf still doing here?" you asked, slightly annoyed by his constant presence in your house. Frodo looked at you with amusement.

"That's a good question," he responded, picking up some trash himself. "I believe he will leave soon. He has some business to attend to. Which reminds me, there is something I need to discuss with you, sister dear."

You dropped yet another armful of small, broken branches to the wheelbarrow, before turning back to face your brother.

"What is it?" you asked, wiping your wet and muddy hands on the sides of your dress. The dress had gotten dirty by all the squatting and lifting, so you did not bother to even try to keep it tidy anymore. You thought the dress would work as a hand towel just fine.

Frodo's posture showed some discomfort, and he stepped closer to you, lowering his voice.

"I will tell you later," he said, as if he was holding in the biggest secret of a Hobbit's lifetime. "Just remind me when you get home."

You nodded, and silently continued your cleaning. Normally, you would demand an answer as fast as possible, but your situation with Merry made you feel so uneasy, that you didn't bother to even respond properly.

The large tree had been lifted away from the front of the Hobbit hole, and laid back down into a more convenient spot, where the handiest and strongest of Hobbits could soon cut up the tree into some firewood. You took note of Pippin and Sam whispering to each other a few feet behind Merry, but your normally inquisitive mind did not bother to dwell on it at all. Your mind was swirling around in a mixture of different feelings and thoughts, most of them were of confusion, fear or sadness. The one fear that surfaced constantly, no matter how hard you tried to fight it, was the fear of losing Merry.

You noticed a small piece of dyed porcelain covered in the mud. It had probably broken during the storm, and the piece of it was buried right in front of your feet. You thought it might be a sentimental piece to someone, so you decided to pick it up. As your fingers sunk into the mud, you felt a sharp edge cut your palm. With a hiss, you lifted your hand off the ground. It didn't take long to notice your palm was cut deeply by a sharp edge of the porcelain piece that was covered under the soil. It was not as much blood as one would have thought, but the wound was stinging and there was blood regardless. You pressed the wound with your thumb and furrowed your brows in pain. You looked around to see if there was any fabric you could tie around your hand, but before you even had a chance to find any, Merry touched your shoulder softly. Your eyes widened as you noticed him, and he gave you a concerned look, asking for permission to examine your injury without saying a word. You gave him a nod, and he took your hurt hand in his. He examined the wound for a bit, before taking a piece of cloth from the pocket of his trousers. He had been prepared for such situations before arriving to help at the clean up.

Merry wiped the wound gently. Even the gentle touch made you hold your breath, as the wound throbbed with slight pain when anything brushed over it. Merry wrapped the flower patterned cloth around your hand, making sure it was pressing the wound enough, so that the bleeding would come to a halt.

He finished fixing you up, and you gave him a faint, careful smile. He gave no response, and instead just walked back to where he had come from, and continued to pick up the trash and branches. A small sense of relief had washed over you as he was helping you, but when he turned away from you without saying a word, your heart sank again, leaving you feeling hopeless. You feared there was nothing you could say or do to get him to open up fully, so you could have a heart-to-heart conversation on the subject. You refused to believe it, as you feared it might change your dynamics forever; but never talking about it could make you two lose each other forever.

Hours went by, but eventually most of the biggest problems caused by the storm had been taken care of. You made sure your wound was still secured under the cloth, and then you made your way home.

Gandalf was not present in your home this time, as he was taking a stroll around the Shire, whilst entertaining some of the younger Hobbits.

Frodo was waiting for you in the kitchen. The kitchen smelled like herbs and citrus fruits, and the tea kettle was whistling. Frodo greeted you with a careful smile, and gestured to you to take a seat across him. You sat down, and your brother provided you with some fresh herbal tea. He poured it into the small cup in front of you, to which you added a fresh slice of lemon. The cup was pale blue, and had little patterns of leaves and some daisies on it. As you held the cup in your hands, your thumbs gently stroked over the daisies. They made you think of the day when Merry had sneaked a daisy behind your ear, and the joy it brought you. In the silence as Frodo was preparing to speak, you kept thinking about Merry.

"As I said earlier, I have something of importance to tell you," said Frodo, breaking the silence. You waited patiently for him to continue. "I want to preface this by saying that I understand if you are going to feel upset, and that I will answer any question you have."

Your heart jumped to your throat. You began nervously fiddling with the edges of the cup, and as you took a sip of your hot tea, your hands shook, and the spoon hitting the edges made so much noise that Frodo took the cup from you to silence it.

"What is it?" you finally asked nervously.

"I believe you remember that I mentioned the possibility of selling our home to the Sackville-Bagginses. I have come to the conclusion it is the best option out of all. So I have decided to sell Bag End."

Your heart dropped, and your throat began to feel tight.

"I see," you responded quietly. You wanted to scream how unfair it was of him to make this decision without you. And yet, you knew Bilbo left the house for him, and that it was his call to make. "What does that mean for me? Or you?"

Frodo took a deep breath before answering, and pushed the teacup back to your direction.

"I am buying a house from Buckland. I grew up there, so I think it's only natural to move back. I plan on asking Merry to help me with it, but I do wish you would not mention any of this to him for at least a month."

"Why?" you asked, the tips of your fingers playing with the edge of the porcelain cup.

"I still have some preparations to do, and I want to take my time before announcing this change," he responded, giving you a gentle and reassuring smile. "I can only assume that the whole Shire will make a big deal out of this."

You understood. Everything he had said so far made complete sense, but there was still a new wave of sadness hitting you every passing second.

"I grew up here, Frodo. This is hard for me."

"I understand," said Frodo. "I know this must make you feel devastated. This house is important to the both of us. But it's time for me to move on. Besides, there is a wonderful job waiting for you in Brandy Hall."

"What do you mean?" you asked, your face puzzled.

"Do you not remember?" Frodo answered, reminding you of a conversation you two had a month back. "I mentioned there is a place and a job for you in Brandy Hall. I have talked to Esmeralda and Saradoc about the matter, and they have already started to prepare a room for you. They are ready to welcome you with open arms."

This made you uneasy. You looked down at your shaky feet. The job opportunity was inviting, and you had always loved Buckland. You would still be close to Frodo, and there would be wonderful Hobbits all around you. Yet, you had doubts.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea," you mumbled sadly, turning Frodo's expression into one of confusion. You took a deep breath. "I'm not sure Merry wants me there."

"What? Why would he not want you there?"

"It's complicated," you responded quietly.

"Well, I do not think it's that complicated," Frodo responded confidently. "I asked Merry about his thoughts on the matter today, and he seemed like he was on board."

"He was?" you asked, amazed by Merry's reaction.

"Of course. You are close friends, aren't you?" Frodo said, smiling reassuringly. You smiled softly and nodded, a small glimmer of hope finding its way to your heart. "How do you feel about all of this?"

"I am not sure, Frodo. I feel a little heartbroken, but at the same time there's a sense of relief in knowing you will live close to me still."

The change in Frodo's mood was obvious, and he leaned back slightly. He had a guilty look on his face as he took your hand in his.

"I'm not sure how long that will be true," he said, making your heart sink again. "Despite moving, I do want to follow uncle Bilbo and have an adventure of my own. Of course, I plan on returning, eventually."

Something was off. The look in Frodo's eyes was one you had only recently come to recognize; it was the look of a liar. You stood up and fixed your dress.

"I need some air," you stated, voice slightly cracking from holding back tears. You excused yourself, and with fast steps made your way outside.

A couple of stars were already scattered across the evening sky, doing their best to provide any living creature with hope. With deep, shaky breaths you looked up to the sky, hoping your life would not be changing so quickly. Your brother was acting upon his and your best interest, but your heart felt heavy. It felt like a huge weight was trying to crush you under it, and you had to sit down on a nearby bench, and close your eyes to prevent a panic attack from rising to the surface.

For what felt like hours, you sat there quietly, trying to stabilize your overactive mind, and to calm down your ragged breathing. In reality it had not been hours, but merely ten minutes, when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You opened your eyes. And to your surprise, there he was, with a face full of concern.

"Are you alright?" Merry asked, his eyes sad and a small frown on his face. You shook your head and tears rose into your eyes.

"No."

Merry sat next to you, and wrapped his arms around you. You cradled into his arms, and as almost a natural reflex, the tears started falling from your eyes, and you started sobbing. The familiar embrace immediately made you feel safe enough to let your true feelings show, and with every sob, he held you tighter. Merry stroked your back slowly, his chin resting on top of your head. The warm scent from his neck calmed you down, and his gentle touch on your back made you feel at ease. After a few minutes of your emotions pouring out, you started to relax a little. You took deep breaths as Merry calmed you down, telling you everything was going to be alright. After you finally calmed down completely, you sat back up and wiped away your tears.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" Merry asked, still stroking your back in calming motions.

"Frodo is selling Bag End," you blurted out, devastated. You knew you could trust Merry with this, despite Frodo asking you not to tell him.

"He is?" Merry said, surprised. "He did ask about you taking a job in Buckland and moving into Brandy Hall, but I did not know the reason. I suppose that is why."

You nodded, and responded: "It feels devastating. I'm losing my home. And... and you."

"What?" Merry said, his brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I feel like I'm losing you," you said, your heart breaking a little.

"You could never lose me," he reassured, his hand on your back swiftly moving to caress your hair. "You're my best friend. I'm sorry for avoiding you. I just needed space."

"Why?" you asked, eyes locked on his.

"I think you know why."

"I'm just not sure how to feel," you said, taking note of his sad expression. You finally decided to ask him the question you had wanted to ask ever since he ran out of the pastry shop. "I need to know, do you have feelings for me?"

Merry stayed quiet for a while. You could see him swallow nervously, and he took his hand off of you.

"I think you know the answer to that."

"I'm just confused," you stated, your heart skipping a beat at his answer. "How long have you-"

"I don't think that matters," he responded, cutting you off mid sentence. "What matters is that you're my best friend, and nothing will change that. I'm sorry for distancing myself from you."

"I understand," you said, your heart once again burdening with guilt. "I'm just-"

"Merry!" shouted Pippin from a distance. "We need to go!"

Merry gave you a forced smile and stood up. He fixed his collar, as he had started to do, ever since you drew him in a way that for him seemed too messy.

"Where are you two going?" you asked.

"We just have some plans," Merry responded, seeming to avoid giving a proper answer to your question. "Nothing big."

"Alright," you answered, not able to help the rising suspicion of everyone leaving you out of some sort of a big secret - a conspiracy of some sort.

"Do you want to do something tomorrow?" Merry asked you, making you smile immediately. It seemed like things would soon return back to normal with him.

"Of course," you responded, which made Merry's forced smile turn into one that was genuine and joyful. "Sam has grown some wonderful strawberries in the garden. We could pick some and go have a picnic, if the weather allows us. Is that alright with you, Merry?"

"Sounds like a good plan," he said, waving you goodbye as he started walking towards Pippin in the distance. "I shall find my way to Bag End tomorrow. I'll see you then."

"I'll be ready," you said softly, waving at him, feeling a sense of calm taking over your brain. You watched as Merry walked away, and you wondered if things would go back to normal soon. What you didn't yet know, was that everything was about to change.

Chapter Text

You kept the brooch in a small jewelry box on your desk. The box was handcrafted by your father before he passed away, and your late mother had drawn a little sheep on top of it. The drawing was not the prettiest by the normal standard, but to you, in its all simplicity, it was art.

You took the brooch the Brandybuck's had gifted from the box, and pinned it delicately to the chest area of your puffy cotton dress. The daisy brooch was sparkling under the beams of sunlight that came through your window, and you couldn't help but admire it, as you stood in front of your mirror. You quickly fixed up your hair, and made your way to the front door. You grabbed the hand woven and full picnic basket from on top of the dresser in the hallway. Outside, Merry was already waiting for you, munching on a bright red strawberry. He smiled wide, his lips red.

"Hey!" you shouted, giving Merry a playful smack on his arm.

"Ow! What was that for?" Merry cried, laughing a little.

"We are supposed to pick them together, and you're not supposed to eat them yet!" you exclaimed in a playfully angry tone.

"They looked too delicious," Merry smirked with no remorse for his actions. "You know me and food."

"I do," you chuckled, and got on your knees to start picking up the strawberries into the small bag in your picnic basket. Merry knelt beside you, picking up berries with you, and sneaking one into his mouth every now and then. You decided to taste one of the berries. They were juicy and sweet, the flavor of the strawberry overwhelmingly delicious and addictive. Samwise really did know how to take care of the garden, including the berries.

"I saw that," Merry snickered, as he caught you sneaking a bite.

"I couldn't help it," you responded, enjoying the juicy flavor on your tastebuds. "And I can blame you no more. This is amazing!"

"Save some for the picnic!" he teased. You gave him a playful nudge with your shoulder, and picked up a few more strawberries to take with you and Merry. You saw a particularly big strawberry, and reached for it. Merry saw it at the same time, and as he picked it up, your hands brushed against each other for a moment. Both of you pulled your hands back immediately, and Merry apologized profusely.

"I'm so sorry! You can take it!" he said, his cheeks turning slightly red.

"It's fine," you chuckled, and Merry picked up the strawberry you both reached for. You gave him a friendly smile. As you looked at his flushed face, your eyes fixated on the freckles on his nose and cheeks that you had not paid attention to before.

"I believe we are done," said Merry, clearing his throat. "What did you pack?"

Only after his question, you stopped staring at his cheeks.

"What?" you asked, not having paid any attention to what he said.

"I asked what you have packed for the picnic?" he repeated, getting back up on his feet.

"Well I packed us a blanket, some apple juice, grapes, bread, butter, scones and now strawberries. Is that enough?'

"For starters," Merry joked and helped you back up on your feet. "I, on the other hand, found us a good spot."

"Where might that be?" you asked curiously.

"There's a small hill in Tookland, that has a view looking over the village of Tuckborough as a whole," he responded. "It's a spot where Pip and I had quite a blast with ale once. And it's absolutely beautiful."

"Sounds perfect," you smiled. "Lead the way!"

Merry smiled, and started walking slightly in front of you. As he passed you by, you took a quick glance at his faint freckles once again.

About an hour of walking was behind you, and you two were still almost an hour away from your destination in Tookland. The sun was shining bright in the sky, warming your skin. Merry's curls were shiny under the sunlight, and the embroidery on his vest looked like gold - it even might have been gold thread.

"This is tiring for my feet," you stated, letting out a long sigh. Merry let out a teasing chuckle.

"I did not remember you being this weak," he smirked, making you roll your eyes. "Do you need to stop?"

"It is normally luncheon time. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Merry responded, and the two of you sat down on a large rock by the side of the road.

You handed him a few pieces of wheat bread you had baked the previous evening, and with a wood carved spoon, you spread some butter over them for him. Merry looked at you with an amused grin.

"What?" you asked, as you kept buttering the bread in his hands.

"I could have done this by myself you know," he responded, and you felt some redness rising to your cheeks.

"Oh!" you giggled, slightly embarrassed. You took your hands off his bread, and began to spread the butter on your own pieces. "I'm sorry. I guess it's sort of a reflex."

"It's fine," he laughed, and gave you a supportive smile, his eyes glowing with mischief. "It's quite a compliment, actually. I did not know you saw me as such royalty."

You laughed whole-heartedly and took a bite of your bread. The day was warm, and so was the melted butter on the bread. The bread was still soft and fresh, making your Hobbit belly half full in no time. Merry was enjoying his luncheon as well, still smirking at his own teasing.

"Should we continue?" you asked, wiping your hands on a napkin. "I do want to see this place you're talking about."

"Actually," he said, the last pieces of bread still in his mouth. "I was wondering if we could stay here. The sun is warming me perfectly, this field is gorgeous and flat, so we could practically set the picnic anywhere. And there's butterflies to admire!"

"Your feet gave up, didn't they?" you snickered.

"I have to walk all the way to Buckland, alright!" Merry admitted, with an exaggerated sigh.

"Too much walking for one day?"

"Exactly," he said. "You know me. And I know you. You'll like having the picnic here."

"Why?" you asked.

"Well," said Merry, bending over to his side of the rock. He picked up a small daisy, and handed it over to you, taking a glance at the brooch you had decorating your dress. His eyes lit up for a second. "It's filled with your favorite flowers."

"Ah, you do know me!" you responded playfully. But he was not wrong, and this small gesture made you feel appreciated and seen.

You two laid down the checkered picnic blanket on the grass, and soon it was filled with all the goods you had brought. And as a surprise, Merry had brought some wine and apple pie. The wine was an expensive wine he had brought from the wine cellar in Brandy Hall; or as you suspected, he had snuck out of there without permission.

"Do you think there's something going on?" you asked, lips red from eating some strawberries.

"I think it's obvious," Merry responded, taking a sip of the red wine he brought. "Sam always blushes when she is around."

"So does Rosie," you added. Merry nodded in agreement. "How about Pippin? Does he have anyone in his radar?"

"No," Merry responded, laughing. "Pippin is mostly focused on creating chaos right now. With good intentions, of course."

"Are you sure it's all good intention?" you asked.

"Most of it," Merry joked. "In all seriousness, I do miss our adventures with him."

"I do too," you responded, taking a sip of your apple juice. "Remember when we stole that apple pie from the kitchen windowsill of the Cotton family?"

"Oh! I had completely forgotten about that one," Merry laughed, crumbs of bread escaping from his mouth. "The angry yelling from Mr. Cotton as we ran was thrilling."

"And how good was the pie?" you reminisced, both of you letting out a moan as you remembered the taste of the warm, fresh apple pie. The memory of the pie started flooding your memory, the crispiness of the green apple slices, the vanilla custard that was laid on top of it, and the sweet smell, with a hint of cardamom and cinnamon.

"It was the best pie I've ever had," Merry said. "I brought some pie I baked with my mother, but I doubt it's even close to being as good."

"I'm sorry?" you said, almost choking on apple juice. "You, Meriadoc Brandybuck, baked a pie?"

"What about it?" Merry cried. "I can bake! My mom helped me. Shut up!"

You giggled at his defensive attitude and tossed a piece of bread for him, which he caught with no trouble. He had a playfully offended expression on his face, and it seemed like everything between you two was settling back to how it used to be, before Merry's confession.

"I'm just saying that I didn't know you bake," you added.

"Hey, the pie is good!" Merry exclaimed.

"Is it now?" you teased, and within five seconds, Merry pounced in your direction and tried to playfully force a piece of apple pie in your mouth. You both laughed as you fell on your back, with Merry trying to wrestle the pie between your lips.

"Try it already!" he shouted, his laughter coming from his belly. He was partially laying on top of you, when he finally got you to try a piece, even though it was done by a playful wrestling match. The pie was sweet with a hint of cinnamon, and the moistness boosted the crisp feel of the apple slices in it.

"I could've died!" you exclaimed, mouth full of delicious pie. "You could've choked me to death. Imagine how awkward it would be to have my tomb say I choked on a piece of apple pie."

"Well it's delicious, isn't it?" Merry smirked as he sat back up from on top of you. You found a more comfortable position, still laying down but your upper body propped up by your arms.

"It is quite delicious, I must admit."

Merry smiled softly, and he reached for your face. He wiped a few crumbs off your cheek and smiled. The crumbs fell partly to your chest, which you wiped them off of.

"You're incredibly messy," he stated, and wiped some more off near your ear.

"I think those crumbs are there just because you attacked me!" you exclaimed with a big smile on your face.

You sat back up, and the two of you helped yourselves to more pie, and you decided to finally have some wine too. It was a full bodied wine, with a strong berry aroma. It was not something you would normally enjoy, but for some reason it felt perfect in that moment.

The two of you enjoyed each other's company in silence, and watched the beautiful day progress, as the sun rose higher in the sky, and a few clouds slowly moved across. You brushed some loose hair off your face, and were putting them behind your ear, when you felt something. You touched around a bit and then pulled a daisy from behind your ear.

"How?" you asked Merry, presenting him the flower he had somehow managed to sneak behind your ear again. Merry turned his gaze to your direction, and his smile turned wide as he saw the daisy in your hand.

"What can I say," he started, a smug and proud look on his face. "I'm somewhat of a wizard when it comes to surprising you."

You felt your heart swell a little by his playful comment, and even if it was meant as a joke, you knew it was still true. He always found a way to make you laugh or smile, no matter what the situation was, and he had never failed to surprise you in the most heartwarming ways. You felt the tips of your pointy ears warm a little bit, and that's when Merry looked at the side of your face, and smiled adoringly.

"What?" you asked, turning to see if there was something behind you. Merry laughed.

"Nothing," he responded, and took a sip of his wine. You gave him a playfully angry pout, and took another sip of wine yourself. Merry seemed like he remembered something suddenly, and his face lit up. "I completely forgot!"

"Forgot what?" you asked, still wondering what Merry was smiling at.

"Pippin was wondering if you wanted to do something with him tomorrow," Merry said. "I have plans with Fatty, and Pippin found me before you, and asked me to ask you."

"Of course," you replied. "Should I just wait for him in the pastry shop as I always do?"

"I assume that's alright," Merry nodded. "I mean, you are also one of his best friends, and just because we usually spend time all three of us, or just you and me, it doesn't mean you two shouldn't spend time just the two of you as well."

"I feel like Pip and I don't spend enough time alone," you said. You had not really thought about it before, but now that it had come up, you realized just how true it was. "I do miss bantering with him as well. And I miss the chaos he brings with him. More than anything, I miss the chaos he brings out in me, especially when you're not there!"

"I have not seen you do anything relatively stupid in a while," Merry noted with a smirk. "So I think hanging out alone with Pippin is exactly what you need."

You laughed loudly and nodded. He was right, even if he was joking. You were sometimes so consumed by stress, anxiety and trying to be more like an adult, that you tended to forget to let go every once in a while. Merry looked around a little bit, seeming like he was looking for something.

"What are you doing?" you asked, raising your eyebrow at him curiously.

"I'm just trying to see if there's enough daisies," he said, still turning his head around.

"For what?"

"I thought we could make you a flower crown," he said, looking at you for a reaction.

"A flower crown?" you chuckled, your voice raised by confusion.

"Yes!" cried Merry confidently. "We are in a field surrounded by your favorite flowers, and a flower crown never crossed your mind?'"

"You're such a girl," you snickered, already starting to pick up some of the taller daisies you saw as you sat up.

"You're saying that like it's a bad thing," Merry responded as he stood up to pick flowers. You nodded in agreement.

"You're right," you responded to his observation. "Besides, I do like this side of you. I always have."

Merry turned his face away with a shy smile, and even though he was turned around, you could see the tips of his ears turn into a deep shade of red. You smiled to yourself. You found his new flustered side endearing. The way he reacted to your compliments in a different way than he used to, made your heart feel a little more whole - even though you didn't really realize it yet.

You stood up to join Merry and the two of you picked up several, beautiful daisies. Their petals were long and bright, and the bright yellow center reminded you of sunshine; one of the reasons it was your favorite flower.

"Do you think we have enough?" you asked Merry, who took a look at the handful of daisies in your hands.

"I think so," he smiled and the two of you made your way back on the picnic blanket.

You sat down, facing each other. Merry crossed his legs comfortably, and you laid your legs to your side, your weight mostly on the left side of your body. Both of you placed the flowers between you two, laying them down in a pile, picking the prettiest ones. Merry took two of them in his hands, and twisted the stems around each other. You observed him for a moment, before he stopped and looked at you.

"To be perfectly honest," said Merry quietly, a small laugh escaping his throat. "I have no idea how to do this."

You giggled, and took the messy flowers off his hands.

"I'll show you," you said, and handed him three daisies, taking the same amount of flowers in your hands. You began braiding the flowers. "Now, first you do a standard braid with the stems, and keep going until you have reached about an inch."

"Alright," Merry said, sitting still. "How do you braid?"

You chuckled and put your flowers down. You crawled next to him, your shoulders softly touching, and you gripped his hands delicately to guide them; and you showed him how to braid. Over and middle, for about an inch. You showed him how to add the next flowers, and you didn't even notice how Merry's breath hitched as you laid your chin on his shoulder while showing him the art of making flower crowns. You two had always been close and touchy as friends, but this was the first time even you felt a little tension - though, it was not the bad kind.

"Do you think you know what to do now?" you asked.

"Mmhm," Merry responded, smiling to you softly.

As you lifted your chin off his shoulder, you felt the tip of his nose brush up against your cheek very faintly.

"Show me," you said, giving him a reassuring look. And like a professional, Merry braided the flowers, and kept doing it for some time. As he focused on the task, the tip of his tongue peeked through his lips, a warm smile forcing its way on your face. Eventually, he had finished making the crown and never had you seen him look so proud. He got up on his feet, and bowed to you, presenting the crown.

"Your highness," he said playfully.

"Why thank you, kind sir!" you responded in an exaggerated accent you imagined the royal Big Folk had. You took the crown and placed it on your head, giving Merry a thankful bow. The both of you laughed from the depths of your stomachs, as this silly exchange filled you both with much joy. It was the kind of stuff that you two had always done and you wondered for a split second if there had always been something else hiding in those moments. But the thought left as quickly as it came, as a large crow flew right past your faces, making a loud screech, making you both jump.

"At least it didn't steal your crown," Merry said, wiping his hands on the front of his pants, as they had gotten sticky from braiding the daisies together.

"You did a really good job," you smiled. Merry turned to look at you and as he saw you with the daisies decorating your hair, he smiled adoringly.

"Can I say something?" he said awkwardly. "I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, considering..."

"You cannot make me uncomfortable, Merry. You're my best friend."

Merry took a deep breath and he switched his position nervously a couple of times before opening his mouth.

"I just thought you would like the crown," he said, clearing his throat, trying to act as casual as possible. "But now that it's actually on your head... Well, first of all, I did a wonderful job. And second of all... It suits you. It... well... it makes you look beautiful."

You felt your lips curl upwards and with a small and shy giggle, you thanked him.

"Well, thank you. You really did do well."

Once again you noticed that Merry's eyes lit up at the sight of you, but you could not understand what it was that made him look at you that way.

You and Pippin were having an eating competition in the pastry shop. You both were shoving chocolate and vanilla muffins in your mouths, trying to outdo the other.

"You have no chance!" Pippin mumbled, his mouth full. As you kept quiet and observed Pippin's enthusiastic competitiveness, you couldn't help but wonder; how on earth was he not choking? And as you were on your way to fill your mouth with yet another muffin, Pippin threw his hands in the air victoriously. "I win!"

You threw the half eaten muffin on your plate, which still had quite a few of them left, and crossed your arms.

"I was so close!" you grunted, which Pippin found hilarious.

"Excuse me, but you still have five muffins left on your plate," Pippin stated with a smug smirk on his face. "It was an easy win."

"Fine. I concede."

The two of you stayed in the coffee shop for hours after that, talking about changes in the Shire, remembering the trouble you used to get into, and laughing so hard your stomach was hurting. Pippin had water in his eyes and his face was bright red from laughter, as you reminded him of the time he arrived into your home, his hands full of eggs, and his feet and hair covered in feathers and hay.

"It was a stupid bet!" Pippin laughed, wiping the tears away from his eyes. "I got pecked so many times, it was practically a fight between me and the chickens!"

"And you lost to a chicken!" you teased. You both had clearly missed the friendly banter between just the two of you, and it was a huge stress relief, as it took your mind off of Frodo selling your home. After a little bit of more laughter, you both started to calm down.

"So, have you talked to Merry?" Pippin asked suddenly.

"Of course I have," you responded in confusion. "We were hanging out just yesterday."

"I meant if you've talked to Merry."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you immediately understood what Pippin meant. You were not aware Merry had talked about his feelings to Pippin. But it made sense to you, considering they were incredibly close. You just hadn't taken the fact into consideration.

"Kind of," you responded. Your fingers started to tap the edge of the table, drumming quietly. You felt awkward and uncomfortable, not sure how to respond to his inquiries.

"How do you feel about it?" Pippin asked. You knew he didn't hesitate to pry, as he was a very inquisitive Hobbit, and still quite young and curious.

"I don't know," you answered, nervously fidgeting. "I guess I don't really understand."

"What do you mean? I think all of this is kind of obvious."

"Well not to me!" you cried, slightly defensive. You leaned back in your chair, crossing your legs and now playing with your fingers. "I just don't understand. I don't know when it started. I don't know if it's temporary. And I... I just don't understand what he sees in me. We have been best friends for so long. Why now?"

"If you were to ask for my opinion-" Pippin started.

"I'm not," you interrupted.

"Alright. Well, as you probably guessed, I don't care. If you were to ask my opinion, I think it was always there."

"What do you mean?" you asked curiously, yet not getting what Pippin meant.

"All I'm saying is," Pippin said, wiping the muffin crumbs off his lips. "I think you should think about why neither of you have ever had a relationship that lasted longer than a few months, or why being close to anyone else left you feeling sad."

"It's not like that," you said, denying his observations. "Merry and I have always been just friends. We have always been comfortable around each other, and it's a different kind of closeness."

"Is it?" asked Pippin, leaving you at a loss of words. His thoughts about your heart feeling hollow whenever you were with anyone else made sense, and anything Merry had ever done to you, made your heart sing with joy. His embrace had always felt more comforting than anyone else's, and talking to him came to you naturally, and even the silent moments between you two were cozy and filled you with glee.

"You're wrong, Pippin."

But somewhere deep inside, you began to think about his words, and a little part of your brain started to wonder; had there always been something there, but you just never realized it before? You thought back to the conversations with Merry, where the both of you had similar experiences with never feeling content with anyone. Had Merry realized something? Something that neither of you had even considered before, but now that he saw it, it was too obvious to ignore? Were you just overthinking it because of Pippin's words, or was there something that was just waiting to come to the surface all along?

And the clock started ticking.

Chapter Text

The reflection did not feel flattering. Your hair was messy from tossing and turning all night, and the bags under your eyes made you look like you had not slept at all; and it might as well have been that way. You kept waking up throughout the night, and the dreams you had were so lively, it felt like you were awake.

You left your room to wash your face, when Frodo bumped into you in the hallway.

"Good morning," he said, to which you responded by grunting as a greeting. "Have you slept at all?"

"No, not really," you answered honestly, rubbing your eyes in the hopes that the exhaustion would fade away somehow.

"Is there something on your mind?" he asked, eyes full of brotherly affection.

Of course there was something on your mind. You were soon to move out of Bag End, and despite that huge change in your life, you could not for some reason get your best friend out of your head.

"I guess I'm just nervous about moving," you said, partly lying, which Frodo did not seem to have noticed. You didn't want him to ask more, so you kept talking. “I know you want to move closer to where you grew up, and that you need me out of here, and I know you will go after Uncle Bilbo, but I am still…”

Frodo smiled faintly.

"Everything will be alright, I promise."

You had pale-yellow and lavender ribbons in your hair as you made your way to the Green Dragon. The lights of the familiar building were already in your sight, when Pippin tapped on your shoulder.

"Hullo!" he said with glee, hugging you tightly.

"Why, hello there Pip!" you greeted him. "I was wondering if anyone was going to be here tonight."

"Merry and I agreed to come here tonight," he said, his focus momentarily moving to the birds flying over your heads. Quickly he returned his focus back to you. "We thought about it and took a wild guess that you might also appear here tonight."

"You both know me so well," you chuckled, as you both entered the pub through its wooden door.

The air smelled stuffy, and there was loud chatter everywhere. The way the lights warmed up the room reminded you of home, but the absence of smells like Frodo's herbal tea and fresh cooking reminded you that the Green Dragon was just another place to keep you away from Bag End. You felt a longing for the only home you had ever known, even though it was not gone yet; but you knew that once the Sackville-Bagginses would get their dirty fingers on it, you would not be allowed to step in that place so dear ever again.

You walked to the counter, behind which a familiar face was working. Rosie Cotton was as cheerful as usual, wiping some pints clean, and handling the chatty and drunk Hobbits with grace. She gave you and Pippin a friendly smile when you ordered your ales, and the two of you made your way to a round table, close to the back wall of the room.

"Have you seen Merry?" Pippin asked you, as he was looking around the full room, observing small details and all the people around him.

"No, not yet," you said, smirking at Pippin's over-energetic presence. He sometimes seemed to find it hard to keep focus, and his mind seemed to hop from place to place, intrigued by everything around him.

"Oh, there he is!" Pippin said, nodding towards a darker corner across the room.

Merry was sitting there with Estella Bolger, his face serious. You observed the two talking, trying to analyze their body language to figure out what they might be discussing.

"What do you think is going on there?" you asked Pippin, your eyes still locked on Merry and Estella.

"Maybe he is apologizing to her?" Pippin suggested. "I know she is no longer mad at him, but he did mention wanting to make it up for her; breaking her heart, I mean."

You mumbled something incoherent as an answer, and kept your eyes on them. Pippin sipped his drink, and from your focused state, you did not notice him smirking behind his glass.

Soon Merry and Estella got up from the table, and started walking away from the corner. They made their way to the front door, Estella in front of Merry. Your gaze followed their every move, and curiously you observed them from afar. As they reached the front door, Estella wrapped her arms around Merry, and buried her face into his neck. You felt a wave of warmth hit your face, and there was suddenly a tiny amount of pressure in your chest. Merry hugged her back tightly, and as they stopped embracing each other, Estella pressed her lips gently on his skin, giving Merry an affectionate kiss on his cheek. Your face felt warmer. They exchanged a few more words before she left. After she had walked out, Merry turned back away from the door. He observed the room, and soon he noticed you and Pippin. He smiled at you and Pippin warmly, and that's when you finally noticed that your breathing had become significantly heavier. You took a deep breath, and waved at Merry, happily. He made his way to your table, and swiftly sat down on the chair next to you.

"What was that about?" you asked him, taking a sip of your drink.

"What?" Merry responded, seemingly confused by the instant interrogation.

"Estella?" you specified, and Merry's lips curled up into a relieved smile.

"We just talked everything through," he responded. "Honestly, I just wanted to get all of it off my chest. There was nothing more to it, and as we said goodbye, she wished me all the best - and I to her.

"I told you," Pippin said with pride; and finally, you could breathe easier. "He is now a guilt-free Hobbit!"

"Did you talk about anything else?" you asked curiously.

"No," Merry responded, in a laid-back tone. You could have sworn you saw his eye twitch slightly.

"Are you sure that's all you talked about?" Pippin said with a grin. A sharp pain hit you, as Merry kicked your shin. You let out a cry of pain and looked at Merry, full of confusion. Merry's eyes widened with guilt.

"I'm so sorry!" Merry apologized, immediately reaching his hand to hold your hand.

"What was that for?" you said, rubbing your leg to relieve the pain.

"I didn't mean to kick you! It was meant for Pippin!"

"Hey!" Pippin cried, almost offended. A moment of silence followed, before you finally opened your mouth again.

"What plans do you two have tonight?" you asked, bringing your glass to your lips, and taking a sizable sip of your ale. The cold beverage calmed your anxiety severely; you had always found that anything close near your chest or throat slowed down your heart rate.

"Drinking," said Merry and Pippin in unison.

"Well, alright then," you responded, and with one lengthful chug, you finished your drink. You slammed the glass loudly on the table, the loud noise and your reckless nature made your best friends laugh, and so they joined you; they finished their drinks in seconds.

The last drink you had that night made you feel quite intoxicated. Pippin had drunk a significantly bigger amount of alcohol, and so had Merry. The three of you kept talking, joking and bantering for hours before you hit that final drink, and the whole room was filled with the drunken laughter of you and your best friends. It was already night-time, and most of the customers had already made their way home. You took note of Rosie starting to close up the Inn, so you gestured Merry and Pippin to get up as well. As you stood up, you noticed it was hard to keep your balance. Pippin got up with such unsteady movements that the chair he had just stood up from, fell down on the floor with a loud bang. You snickered, and as Merry laughed, he took a step back, trying to hold his balance as well.

Outside the Inn, everything was quiet. Only crickets, owls and the wind could be heard, and every now and then a frog croaked quietly. The sky was dark, and there were dark-grey rain clouds slowly covering the stars underneath them, and hiding the moonlight.

"I really need to get home," Pippin said, stumbling on his feet. He started walking towards a wooden bench to his left, reaching for it with both of his arms held forward. "Can I sleep on this bench instead?"

You giggled, and with unsteady steps you made your way to your friend. You nudged him up before he could fully lay down on the bench, and put your arm around him.

"Pippin, can you get home?" you asked him, to which he responded by laughing so hard he let out a pig-like snort.

"Can I? Try and stop me!" Pippin slurred, but did not move an inch. You kept waiting for him to make a movement towards the direction of Tookland, but he just kept swaying, his eyes barely open. You looked to your right, where Merry was fumbling with the pipe in his pocket, struggling to find the right end of it to start smoking. You smirked, and turned your attention back to Pippin.

"Pip?" you said, shaking him softly. Pippin opened his eyes and smacked his lips, as if he was just woken up from a good-night's sleep.

"Yes?" he answered, smiling at you widely, trying to find proper balance on his feet. You gave him a pat on his back.

"I think you need to sleep somewhere else," you said to him. Pippin was amused by your suggestion, and he blew a raspberry.

"No I don't!" he scoffed, with a quiet burp. You started laughing louder, your own legs almost giving out. Pippin started laughing with you cluelessly. After a moment of laughing and drunken arguing, Pippin finally gave in, and decided to come sleep at your house. You turned to look at Merry to give him the update on the situation, but he was still fumbling with his pipe. You sat Pippin down on the bench, told him to not fall asleep, and with shaky steps you made your way to Merry. As you reached him, he finally realized how the pipe works and placed it on his lips; and started smoking it without lighting up the pipe.

"Come on," you laughed and took his pipe away, to which Merry responded by smiling at you unbothered, eyes half-open. With some effort, you eventually got Pippin back up as well.

The three of you made your way to Bag End, and got inside before the rain started. The rain was so gentle, you could not hear it inside, as it was watering the green grass of Hobbiton. Pippin flailed his arm at Frodo, who had woken up to the sounds of the coat rack falling down, and to Merry's failed attempt to muffle his laughter. Pippin stumbled his way to the kitchen, and he laid down on the wide kitchen bench, curling up into a fetal position. It took less than ten seconds from when his head hit the bench, that you started hearing snoring. Frodo had gone to bed when he saw the three of you in your intoxicated states, as he was already very familiar with the reckless behavior you brought out in each other. This left you in charge of everything.

You covered Pippin with a felt-blanket, and despite being completely out of it, he pulled it over his head and curled up into a ball. Your heart felt full, knowing your friend was safe and comfortable, so you made your way back to Merry.

"I don't understand how this works anymore," Merry said, once again holding his pipe in his mouth, trying to smoke it. As you sat down next to him on the couch, you took the pipe out of his mouth and poked him on the nose clumsily.

"You're supposed to light it you idiot," you said, which made Merry howl with laughter. Merry was very intrigued by pipe-weed, and had been for a long time. As he was a regular smoker, forgetting such a simple thing made his drunken state finally obvious to his fuzzy-feeling brain. You laughed with him for a long while, before you finally asked him a more serious question.

"Merry, was that really all it was with Estella?" you asked, playing with the soft ends of your curls.

"In all honesty? No, it was not," he responded. You stopped twirling the hair around your fingers, and stared at the orange flames, burning in the fireplace in front of you. "We actually talked about you."

You turned your gaze up to look at him, and he looked down at you.

"What?" you asked, puzzled. "What did you talk about?"

"It was nothing," Merry said after a long pause while he was playing with your hair. You wanted to push this conversation forward, but somehow you got nervous and decided to change the subject. Normally you would have pushed Merry for the truth, but this time you were anxious of what he might have said - or what she might have said. As you still had your eyes locked on Merry's, you realized you had been laying in his arms for probably at least ten minutes. Yet, his fingers playing with your curls and his hand brushing through your hair felt too comfortable; so you decided not to move.

"I lost to Pippin," you said, pressing your cheek against his chest, the softness of his shirt caressing your skin.

"What?" Merry chuckled, two of his fingers twirling your hair around.

"At an eating contest," you slurred, finding it hard to keep your eyes open. "I need to step up my game. I keep losing."

"Pip and I are gluttons, you know that!" Merry snickered, his fingertips tenderly caressing your hair and scalp. The way he touched you made you feel warm inside, and your heart felt like it was beating faster than it usually did when the two of you were close to each other - but maybe it was the alcohol?

You explained to Merry in detail; and in a way that made no sense whatsoever, how you losing eating contests was bad for your reputation. Merry in his turn answered to you in detail how you had no reputation as an eating contestant or anything of the sort, but the alcohol-driven conversation led nowhere. Before you even noticed, you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore.

There was a loud knock on the door that startled you. Your eyes flashed open and your heart skipped a beat from being woken up so suddenly. You could hear the quiet footsteps of your brother as he made his way to the front door. It was drizzling outside, and the fire had gone out at some point during the night, leaving only grey ashes in the fireplace.

Your head was throbbing a little, and as you lifted your hand to massage your forehead, Merry let out a grunt in his sleep. You paused, and realized you had fallen asleep in his arms. Merry was resting his head against his fist, as he had propped himself on his elbow. He was in a sitting position, and your side was on his lap. His other arm was lightly wrapped around you and you had rested your head against him all night. Merry looked peaceful, but with every slow movement you made, his brows furrowed and you feared you might wake him up.

Frodo walked back inside with some mail, as someone had decided to provide him with a letter personally. As he walked past the couch, you two locked eyes and he gave you a questionable look. He flailed the letter in his hand, and with a smirk he gestured to you to come to the kitchen. You nodded, and slowly made your way out of Merry's arms. Merry groaned softly in his sleep, smacking his lips as you got up.

"Do you want tea?" Frodo asked, handing over the letter to you. You shook your head, pressing your forehead with the palm of your hand. You looked at the letter, and it was assigned to both you and Frodo. It was from Merry's parents.

"I'm guessing this is about me moving to Brandy Hall," you mumbled, taking a seat, accidentally sitting on Pippin's feet. You had not noticed he was still sleeping there, and he grunted loudly at you. He curled up into a smaller ball under his blanket, dozing off again. Amused by Pippin, you momentarily forgot about opening the letter.

"Are you going to read it?" Frodo asked. You snapped back to reality, and opened the letter.

Dear Bagginses,

It is sad to hear about your decision to sell your beloved home. Bag End is truly a wonderful place, and I am sure you are proud to have had it to call your home.

Frodo, you told us about your sister being a suitable candidate for the job opening we have, and more than that, you have told us she is the most magnicifent Hobbit to live with, and that she would be a good person to add to our home.

As Merry probably has already told you, we have already made the room ready for her, and are more than happy to have her move in here when the time comes.

Miss Baggins, you are more than welcome into our home, and we are very excited to see a friend of our son's here, hopefully also keeping him out of trouble for some time (unlike a Took might)!

We hope you make your way here soon, as we have many projects we would love your help with.

Please, let us know as soon as possible. You may use our son as the messenger.

Sincerely,

Esmeralda and Saradoc Brandybuck

Ps. Is there any chance you could bring your art supplies with you? We would love to have some of your charcoal work in the library. Merry has talked to us about your talent plenty.

You sighed as you finished reading the letter, and handed it over to your brother. He read it with a satisfied smile, and drank his tea in silence.

"I suppose I really am moving to Brandy Hall," you said, resting your head on the table, hoping to relieve the ache. Your throat felt dry, and you were desperate for water; yet too tired to drink any. "I knew I was going to move and I knew this was already settled, but having this official letter about it..."

"I know," Frodo said compassionately. You did not see his face, but you could feel him smirking. "But look at the bright side: you get to cuddle up with Merry like that so much more often."

"We're just friends," you grunted. You did not look up, but you could sense the smug smile on your brother's face.

All of Hobbiton was talking about Frodo's decision to sell Bag End. Many Hobbits had a theory that Frodo had run out of money, since he was selling your home at a low price; and to the Sackville-Bagginses. Others thought it was a plot put together by Gandalf, who had suddenly left the Shire, after staying in Bag End for two months. Only if they had known just how right they were.

You were sitting among some of your stuff in the carriage. You were reading Merry's first draft of the first pages of his book about pipe-weed, leaning uncomfortably against some of the furniture you had decided to take with you to your new residence. Merry had brought one of his ponies, and was helping you with your move. Frodo's move was still a couple of months away, but you had agreed to start working for Merry's parents. The move had come rather quickly, even though Frodo had warned you about it a couple of times already. You didn't know if you'd see him again for many years, though you hoped you'd get to have tea with him when he arrived in Buckland as well.

"Are you alright back there?" Merry asked, glancing at you over his shoulder. You nodded, and kept reading his observations and knowledge on Old Toby.

You placed the jewellry box on your desk, and fidgeted with the hem of your dress. Everything was now set in your new room; in your new home. The room was quite small and cozy, one of the walls painted light-yellow (because Merry had told his parents it was one of your favorite colors) and everything else was new, but your desk, chair, bed and the other belongings you brought, such as your art supplies, jewellry, clothing and a few mugs and teacups.

"So, how do you like it?" asked Esmeralda. You turned around to look her in the eye, and gave her a faint, slightly upset smile.

"I like it," you responded, truthfully, but you already missed Bag End and your brother.

"Make yourself at home," said Merry's mother, and placed a small box on your new dresser. It was wrapped in light blue paper, and a small bow was decorating the top of it. "Here's a welcoming gift. I will get back to work now. And don't you worry about working yet, dear. We won't have you start until next week."

"Thank you, Mrs. Brandybuck."

"You can call me Esmeralda," she smiled, and closed the door behind her as she excited your room. You took a deep breath, and hopped on your bed, onto the new cotton covers they had bought for you. It was comfortable, and a piece of home. You closed your eyes, and imagined being back in Bag End, laying in your old room, waiting for Uncle Bilbo to come and sit by your bed to tell you about his adventures. It was the end of June, and the room was warm and filled with sunlight. You forgot about the present Esmeralda had just given you. In a few short minutes, there was a knock on your door.

"May I come in?" said Merry, his voice muffled by the round door.

"Yeah," you responded in a sigh.

Merry entered the room, the door creaking. You still had your eyes closed, and Merry looked at you with concern, yet with a big smile on his face. He walked around your room, observing all the little trinkets you had put out. A small frog shaped pot for plants you had created as a wee Hobbit, the daisy brooch he and his mother had gotten you for your thirty-third birthday, a small wooden statue of a bunny, and a small bell your Uncle Bilbo had left you as a present when he disappeared on his 111th birthday. Merry noticed the charcoal drawing you had made of him months ago, and he smiled fondly as he stared at it.

"How do you feel?" he asked, sitting by your side. You were still laying on your back, eyes shut. You shrug your shoulders, and exhaled loudly. Merry smiled compassionately, and poked your shoulder. You looked at him with sad eyes, showing the longing you had for your room in Bag End. Merry stood up. "Get up."

"Do I have to?" you asked, already sitting up. Merry offered you his hand, and he pulled you out of the comfort of your own bed. "What do you have in mind?"

"I will show you around some of my favorite spots outside. I'll show you the places where you can read peacefully, and where you can do your art without anyone bothering you. My mother can be a little bit intrusive sometimes, so she might be knocking on your door often enough. It's good to have a place for yourself. I know it's important to you."

His hand lingered on yours for a little while longer, before he let go and guided your way outside. The halls of your new home were long, and there were several rooms on every side, and many new hallways around what felt like after every corner.

There were once again rain clouds in sight, but they were gladly still far off. Merry showed you a few quiet corners near the house, a spot by the Brandywine river, and a large tree to which he climbed up to smoke a pipe if he wanted a moment of peace. The two of you climbed the tree. Its trunk was massive and strong, the branches spread wide and grew close to each other, making it a perfect place to sit down and relax. The higher you climbed, the closer the branches were to each other. You sat comfortably on a branch so thick it was larger than your bottom. You could see quite far from between the leaves and branches, and Merry pointed to different directions, explaining the surroundings and the history of Buckland to you. With eagerness you listened, and for a moment you forgot how much you missed Hobbiton.

"Towards that direction is the village of Bree, but it's quite far away. I have been there a few times, and the folk there are friendly, but some are quite odd," explained Merry, pointing to the distance. You listened to his enthusiastic explanations of the adventures he had had with Pippin around Buckland, and described to you in detail about growing up in Brandy Hall. As his face was turned away, you couldn't help but stare at his button nose. His blue eyes were sparkling as he told you about his fondest childhood memories, and you could see his cheeks and ears get slightly pink when you locked eyes with him for a moment longer.

"I really liked what you wrote," you said when the conversation turned into Merry's interests. "I find your interest in pipe-weed fascinating and quite endearing."

"You do?" he responded, the color of red on his cheeks deepening.

"Yes. I think it has potential. Overall, I think you're a talented writer. I hope you decide to finish the book someday."

Merry smiled, his blushing intensifying. You felt the tips of your ears heat up as you kept staring at each other, and you turned your face away as you couldn't take it anymore. The tips of your pinkies were softly touching as you sat on the large branch together and you felt your heart rate jump up.

"Caketeas," Merry said suddenly, and your gaze shifted back to him.

"What?" you chuckled, and Merry opened and closed his mouth rapidly.

"I- pancakes," Merry said, tripping over his words. "Pancakes and tea! We have pancakes and tea somewhere in the smaller kitchen near your room."

You smiled as Merry shook his head in embarrassment. His crush on you started to be more obvious to you day by day, and it seemed that Merry had decided to embrace his feelings, at least for the moment.

"That sounds delicious," you responded, your pinkie twitching on his. A wave of courage suddenly took over you and you wrapped your pinkie around his finger. Merry turned his face away from you nervously. "Should we go?"

"I- yes. I think that's a good idea,” he stuttered.

You let go of him and made your way down the branches, climbing down at a fast and steady pace. Merry was not far behind you, and there was a loud thump as he hopped down from the tree. You two walked extremely close to each other, your arms brushing against each other on almost every step. You felt nervous and the tension in the air felt like it was suffocating you. It was new to you and you started to wonder to yourself; maybe Pippin was right? Maybe there really was something going on with you and Merry; something more than a friendship. Maybe it was not one-sided after all?

You felt a drop of water on your chest and as you looked up, you realized the rainclouds had finally reached Buckland. Another drop fell on your face - and another. The rain started pouring down and you squealed as you realized you were out in the open, Brandy Hall barely in sight. Merry let out a startled cry and took your hand.

"Let's go!" he shouted over the rain and the two of you started running towards a small shed, maybe 600 feet away. The grass was already soaking wet and mud was splashing around your legs loudly, Merry's laughter echoing in the air. You giggled as you ran as fast as you could, your hand squeezing Merry's. You were significantly shorter than him, so you were slightly behind him when you reached shelter. You bumped into Merry and he caught you in his arms so you would not fall down, laughing whole-heartedly when you crashed against him. The rain hit the roof of the shed loudly, partly covering the sounds of your laughter under it.

Merry's arms were softly wrapped around you as the laughter started slowing down. You cleared your throat. Your chest was pressed against his body and you looked up at him, locking eyes. You felt your face heat up, and the tips of your ears were burning as his gaze pierced you. His eyes shifted from looking into yours in turns, and you could've sworn his gaze traveled to your lips for a split second. Your heart jumped to your throat. He grinned and let out a small chuckle.

"What?" you asked, smiling back at him, confused.

"Nothing," Merry responded, chuckling more, his gaze shifting all across the features of your face.

"Just tell me!" you cried, finally getting out of his arms, giving him a friendly and playful push.

"Nothing bad, I swear!" he laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. "It's just your tell."

You narrowed your gaze. You knew he had taken note of your tells, and that he knew what you felt like most of the time. At this moment you weren't sure what you were feeling either, so it seemed ridiculous that he would know.

"Merry!"

Merry laughed, the sound warming up your heart.

"Alright, alright!" he chuckled. He took a deep breath and stepped closer to you. He reached his left hand to the right side of your face, gently caressing your ear, making you blush more. He grinned. "It's just that when you feel joy, your e-"

"Merry!" shouted a female voice from afar, clearly looking for him. Merry still had his hand gently covering your ear when his mother called for him again. He turned his head to the direction of the voice swiftly.

"It's like I'm a child again," he laughed, moving his hand away and against his side. "She is very caring, you know. Despite being an adult myself, she wants to make sure I get fed properly. Let's go."

Merry started sprinting through the rain and out of shelter, leaving you clueless of your tells once again.

"Oh come on now!" you shouted as you ran after him. Your face was still burning up. "You can't leave me hanging like this!"

Chapter Text

"This way!" said Merry enthusiastically, walking in front of you. He led you through a few trees and behind a couple of bushes. There was a small tent waiting there, hiding inside the greenery.

"What's this?" you asked, and walked towards the tent Merry had set up.

"I just wanted you to be able to enjoy your last few dates - days before your work starts," Merry stuttered, a shy smile on his face.

"Did you steal my paints?" you asked, noticing the collection of handmade paints that were extremely precious to you. Merry blushed.

"I might have," he responded in a low tone. "Is that okay?"

You let out a soft chuckle, whilst shaking your head in amusement.

"You, Meriadoc Brandybuck, are a little thief," you teased, and made your way into the tent. It was not a closed tent, the front of it being wide open. It was quite small, but it made it that much cozier. There were many pillows, covering the ground underneath. You crawled and made your way to the most comfortable spot you could find. Merry was right behind you, and sat comfortably across from you. He crossed his legs, and propped his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his hands. In his eyes was shyness, but also admiration as he looked at you. You were always fond of him, but in the last few weeks that had passed, you had grown to adore him more.

"Now, I have a few questions," you said, laying down on your side. "Why are there art supplies, and what do you have in mind?"

"I believe you will like what I have planned," Merry said confidently. He dug under one of the pillows, and pulled out a blank canvas. He handed it over to you and soon after he spread a white sheet between you to protect the pillows from the paint. "I know you love to paint, and I thought we could make a painting."

"We?" you asked shyly.

"Well, yes," Merry said, his cheeks turning pink once again. "I thought we could paint what we see, do half and half on the canvas, if you understand."

The corners of your lips curled upwards. You tilted your head as you looked at him, once again impressed by how well he understood and knew you. You gathered the paint brushes he had brought, and spread them and the paints between the two of you.

You shuffled closer to him, so that the two of you would be looking at the canvas from the same angle. Merry turned his gaze to the canvas, and his fingers trembled slightly as he picked up a brush.

You looked a little to your right, and admired the surrounding greenery outside. There were blue Forget-Me-Nots between strands of long grass, the sunlight highlighting the petals, captivating and inspiring you instantly. You took the blue paint, and mixed it with a tiny amount of red and plenty of white. After some experimenting with the colors, you found one you were satisfied with. You dipped the paintbrush in, twirled it around and slowly started to paint the most delicate, small flowers.

On his side, Merry was painting the trees. You glanced at his side. The strokes of his paintbrush were not soft in the slightest, yet you were impressed by the way he created the view in front of you on the canvas.

When you were satisfied with your flowers, you switched to a smaller brush, and with dark green and white paint, you started to paint the grass. With delicate and careful movements, you made singular strands of grass on the bottom of the painting, creating a surprisingly realistic portrayal of what you saw. In the corner of your eye, you could see Merry glancing at you, and you continued painting with an increased heart rate.

When you eventually moved to create some of the branches, the brush on your hand slowly started drifting towards Merry's side of the art piece. So focused you were, that you did not notice your hands and brushes about to clash.

With a long stroke to create a thin, brown twig, you drifted to Merry's side, and the edge of his hand touched yours. A jolt of lightning traveled through your body. You pulled your hand back quickly, your startled movement creating a smudge of brown on the canvas.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" you panicked, your heart skipping a beat.

"It's alright!" he said warmly, and put his brush down. "I think it's better this way."

"How? I have ruined the whole thing!"

"I beg your pardon, m'lady, you have not!" he said, lifting up the canvas, pointing at a smudged spot on his side. "See this? I accidentally dropped my brush for a short moment, and blotched the painting. Yet, I believe it makes it unique, especially now that I was not the only one to mess up."

"I just-"

"I know you aspire to make no mistakes, but we all do. The whole painting looks great, and one or two little irregularities on the canvas do not make you any less talented."

You felt your heart swell from his compliment, and could not stop the wide smile that made it's way on your face.

"Thank you," you said, taking the painting in your hands. It was indeed unique, and on both sides you could make out the personalities of the painters; one striving for excellence, and the other care-free. You judged yourself a little less, as you looked at the fumble on Merry's side.

"How come you dropped your paint brush?" you asked, locking eyes with Merry.

"I got distracted," he responded, eyes sparkling.

"By what?"

Merry opened his mouth for a moment, before he shut it and turned his face away with an awkward smile. He did not respond, and you felt your heart flutter.

"Well, it is a great painting regardless. And I have very much enjoyed this. What else have you planned?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.

Merry hesitated before answering. Nervously he scratched his head.

"To be honest, I don't know. I was hoping we could talk," he responded, avoiding eye-contact.

"About what?"

"Anything, really," he said, finally finding the courage to look you in the eyes again. "I just... wanted to spend time with you. I want to spend time with you, as much as I can - of course meaning nothing big. Not that spending time with you was not big, it is the most - it is very enjoyable."

Merry kept mumbling on and on, stumbling over his words and you were holding in your laughter. His behavior and growing awkwardness made you that much more fond of him, and you did not realize you were making him even more flustered.

You kept squeezing your lips together, laughter trying to escape your throat. When Merry finally stopped over-explaining himself, you put yourself back together and gave him a smile.

"I would love that," you said.

Hours went by, and it took long to notice that the night had fallen over you, the only light in your tent provided by the lanterns he had brought.

Merry handed over a blanket to you, making sure you were warm enough as you felt your tiredness growing. You nested yourself on and between several pillows, snuggling comfortably under the blanket. With a few swift blows, Merry put out the candles inside the lanterns.

It was almost pitch black. From the open front of the tent, you could see the stars shining on the nightsky, and an owl with it's bright eyes sitting on one of the branches of a large willow. You felt restless, and as you heard Merry's breathing close to your ear, your heart started beating faster than it had done around him before. You stared at the tent's ceiling, trying to steady your breath. You still had a small part of your brain trying to convince you that you felt nothing more than a friendship; that there was nothing between you and Merry. It was just him crushing on you that was making you nervous, right?

"Are you awake?" he asked suddenly in the dark. Your heart rate grew again. A fear took you over: was your nervousness so loud that he had woken up? Had he heard the way your heart was racing and how you could not control your breathing around him anymore?

"Yes," you responded quietly.

You turned your head, now facing Merry. He turned around on his side, resting his arm under his head, looking at you. Inside your stomach it felt like your organs were twisting around each other, and like a thousand butterflies flew around them, bothering you and growing your anxiety with every flutter of their tiny wings.

"I can't sleep, not at all," Merry said quietly.

"I can't either," you whispered, feeling his gaze piercing you.

You two did not say another word for many more minutes. All you did was lay there in silence, facing each other, the pressure in your body intensifying.

Merry was resting very close to you, and the heat radiating from his nervousness could almost be felt. You could hear the unsteady pace of his breath, and the loud noise that was created by Merry trying to swallow his nerves and to muster up his courage. And so he moved a few inches closer to you.

You could feel his breath close to your lips, and the knots in your stomach tightened. Your heart skipped a beat. The air around you felt thick. You could hear your own heartbeat; the drum roll. Anticipation lingered in your heart as the tips of your noses brushed against each other. You could not take it anymore.

"We should try to get some sleep," you said, pulling your head back nervously. Merry exhaled unsteadily, and nodded.

"Alright," he said. "Good night."

You wished him a good night and turned around. You could not close your eyes, and the drumming of your own heart beat was deafening. You stared at the wall of the tent before your eyes fluttered shut, and you started slowly drifting into a restless sleep.

As the birds sang loudly and the wind was howling, you woke up shivering. The cold air had filled the tent during the night, and because the grass was dewy and it was foggy outside the tent, you figured it must've been no earlier than five in the morning.

You sat up and looked to your right at Merry, who was still sound asleep; after all, it had only been a few hours since you both drifted to sleep. 'He looks peaceful,' you thought to yourself as you watched him lay there, asleep and steadily breathing.

His right hand was resting next to his head, and the other one was squeezing his blanket tightly. His curls had partly fallen over his face, but from underneath them you could still admire his boy-ish features and the lips you were so desperate to feel on yours just hours before.

As Merry grunted in his sleep, you turned your gaze away to not get caught. You laid down on your back, and the cold air was still making you tremble. Even the warm blanket around you seemed not enough, so in an attempt to get more sleep, you snuggled closer to Merry, hoping the warmth of his body near you would be enough.

And in his sleep, Merry seemed to sense you move in close. He lifted his hand that was resting beside his face, turned around and wrapped it tightly around you, pulling you so close you could feel his heartbeat. Your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your throat, but laying in his arms had always felt like home; and so you fell back to sleep almost immediately.

Merry woke up before you when the sounds of other Hobbits started to get louder in the nearby areas. It sounded like everyone in Brandy Hall was out and about, running their errands and the children playing on the field next to you.

His cheek was resting on the top of your head, both of his arms wrapped around you. You were no longer shivering, and at some point he had pulled you under his own blanket. Merry's breath was taken away for a moment as he moved his head, and the scent of you filled his stomach with butterflies. He sat up carefully, trying not to wake you up. He put both of the blankets on you, and pushed them slightly under you to give you as much warmth as possible.

He crawled toward his bag, and from there he pulled out some garlic bread and shiny red apples. Slowly he shuffled back to you, and poked you awake.

As his finger touched your cheek softly, you lifted the blankets over your face and groaned in a tired voice.

"Good morning," said Merry, still softly poking you.

"What's good about it?" you mumbled, lifting your knees closer to your chest under the blankets. "It's too early."

"You sound just like Pippin," Merry chuckled, teasing you by pulling both of the blankets under your chin. You turned your face against the pillows, your eyes tightly shut. "And it is barely morning at this point, or at least not too early. I think it must be at least nine."

"That's still too early," you complained, finally opening your left eye partly, trying to get used to the bright light outside. Merry handed over some of the garlic bread and an apple he had brought. You opened your eyes wide, and sat up immediately. Like a fiend you grabbed them from his hands, and started devouring the breakfast. Merry laughed, and started enjoying his own food as well. You sat there in silence, the garlic bread melting away your grumpiness.

The squeaking of the mug ensured you that it was finally clean, and you placed it on a shelf behind you. You dipped your hands back into the dishwater, and in fifteen minutes you had done most of the dishes from that morning. There were a few kitchens, and this was the smaller one close to your room.

Esmeralda Brandybuck guided you through some of your new tasks, and with a friendly tone she helped you if something seemed too difficult.

Saradoc, Merry's father, was a different story. As the Master of Buckland he had a lot of work to do, and even though you thought he had to be a warm person underneath the hard shell he had, you felt nervous around him and feared to ask him any follow-up questions. 'He must be so stressed even without me bothering him with my stupid questions,' you thought to yourself.

He showed you how to respond to the most important letters, how they were organized and how you would send forward any necessary documents he had. It took him at least five days to walk you through it all, and your mind was overwhelmed. On your new desk that was placed right next to his, you had a few choices of quills, several piles of paperwork waiting, and a stamp you were to use when sealing any envelopes.

Your ninth day of work went by swiftly, and even though you were happy to have learned many new things and met several new people, you were exhausted by the end of it. You walked past Merry's room, and took note of his door being shut, and you were itching to go in and say hello. Despite that, you walked into your own room that was just a few rooms past his, and laid down in your bed, exhausted. Your feet were hurting from walking around so much, and your stomach was already craving for dinner and supper.

Loud noises began echoing in the hallway, and many footsteps could be heard. You recognized the voices. You sprung up and peeked through the crack of your door carefully.

In the hallway were Merry, Pippin, Sam and Fredegar. Everyone's face was serious, and their eyes were full of concern; yet there was a determined aura around them all. Merry waved them goodbye, and as they walked away, he put his hands in his pockets, looking at the floor with sorrow. Worry grew in you, but you feared to ask what was happening. Carefully, you closed the door and walked back to your bed. Before you had a chance to lay back down, Merry knocked on your door. You granted him the permission to enter.

"How was your day?" he asked, walking next to you, and sitting on the edge of your bed.

"It was exhausting," you admitted, and sat down beside him. "I wish I had another day off after this, but tomorrow I have to do a lot of paperwork."

"My father isn't making you do too much work, is he?" Merry asked, concerned.

"No, not at all," you responded. "I'm slowly getting used to it, I just have a lot to learn."

"Well, that's good."

Merry's smile was faint and he was avoiding your gaze. You observed his body language, and to you he seemed troubled.

"Is everything alright?" you asked him. He looked at you, eyes desperate - and yet he smiled at you widely.

"Yes," he lied, with a smile so convincing you believed him soon enough, even though at first you had doubts. "Do you still have the energy to go for that walk with me?"

You took a moment to think about it. Your feet were tingling from pain, and your neck felt stiff from looking down at the papers all day. Your hand was cramping from answering so many letters, and the dishwater had made your hands itchy.

"Of course," you said, and got up filled with excitement. Almost daily you had spent time with Merry, and everytime you enjoyed his company more than before. Your heart felt overwhelmingly full everytime he was near you; and yet you refused to accept it was anything more; even though every sign pointed to the direction that Merry finally had made you realize the feelings he had confessed to were mutual.

You left your room with Merry, joking side by side and teasing each other in turns. The brooch he had given you was the finishing touch to your outfit that day, and as Merry glanced at it and you spoke of your excitement about the future adventures the two of you (or the three of you if you count Pippin) could have, you missed the sadness and fear behind his eyes - the fear for what was about to come.

Chapter Text

August 10th

You showed Merry the small ladybug that had landed on the palm of your hand. Its back was a deep red color, a few black spots were here and there, and it was walking around your hand, almost like a little explorer.

You took the small creature on the pointer finger of your free hand, and softly placed it on Merry's hand. He smiled as your skin touched his, and the bug started traveling across his arm. He picked up the ladybug with his fingers, and placed it on the tip of your nose. You tried to look at it, crossed your eyes to focus on the bug, and Merry cracked up at the sight. He softly lifted the red creature off your nose, and it flew far away.

The wind had been getting chillier, a sign that fall was nearing Hobbiton. The grass was slightly yellow all over the place, as the heatwave at the beginning of the month dried it up. Everyone was waiting for some rain to make the air fresh again and to water their crops.

You had not visited your brother after moving to Buckland. The moment you saw the green door of Bag End in the distance, excitement ran through your body and you sprinted towards your previous home. Merry ran behind you, and the two of you burst inside the door; just like you used to do.

"I'm home!" you shouted cheerfully.

"In the kitchen!" Frodo responded. You felt thrilled to see him again, so you walked to the kitchen with fast steps. The speed you were walking with was too much for Merry, and he could not keep up with your pace.

When you entered the kitchen, you were surprised to see Samwise there as well. The second you saw your brother, you wrapped your arms around him tightly, and he returned the favor, you two falling into a warm embrace.

"I have missed you," you said, your cheek pressed against your brother's chest.

"I have missed you too, sister dear!" Frodo responded, and Sam coughed in the background.

"I am happy to see you too, Sam," you smiled, making Sam blush, slightly embarrassed.

Merry was leaning against the round door frame, arms crossed and warmly looking at you. This was the first time Frodo had seen you and Merry together in a while, and as you two had grown even closer, he couldn't help but notice the way Merry was looking at you.

Even more than weeks before, his eyes were glimmering with admiration, his smile revealing just how deeply he cared for you. Frodo thought about how relieved he felt; Merry would stay with you when he left with Sam, and so would Pippin. You would have enough sources of support in case he would not return. In his heart he had no doubts that his friend had fallen for you, and there was no doubt; he would be there to take care of you.

"How have you been?" Frodo asked cheerfully, as all of you gathered to have afternoon tea around the kitchen table.

"I am getting better at my job every day," you responded. "It has been quite difficult to figure everything out; and I am sure there is still much to learn! But for now, work feels absolutely fantastic."

"That is good to hear," Frodo responded, and before asking you more, he glanced at Merry meaningfully. "And how is everything else, sister dearest?"

You blushed vividly. You still had not admitted it to yourself. Not even though you and Merry were seemingly more comfortable around each other again, and Merry's hands shook less around you. You were sometimes feeling too nervous to even hold his hand. But why care about such a thing; after all, you had no feelings for him. Right?

"Everything is fine," you said, twirling your hair between your fingers and tapping your foot against the floor. "How are the moving preparations going?"

"Quite well," said Frodo with a proud smile. "Merry and Sam have been a big help. Merry has found me a house in Buckland. Crickhollow to be exact."

"I have mentioned it to her in passing," Merry commented, stirring his tea, whilst pouring more honey in it.

"I see," Frodo said, the other corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk.

"Well, I am glad you are keeping her updated, Merry. Have you two spent a lot of time together, now that you live in the same settlement?"

"From what I have seen, both of them have been quite busy at work," said Sam. "But-"

"Work has been quite hectic," you said, not letting Sam finish his sentence in fear of him revealing to your brother just how much you spent time with Merry; you did not want to be a subject of teasing.

"Indeed," said Merry quietly, smiling as he sipped his tea.

"What have you been doing at Brandy Hall?" asked Frodo curiously. Sam blushed.

"Gardening, as requested by the Brandybucks," he responded, and Frodo inquired no more.

On the way back to Buckland, Merry showed you around places you had not yet seen.

"Do you see that small path?" he asked, pointing to your right. You took a step towards the direction, and Merry took your hand, stopping you in your tracks. "Take no step further. They say it's haunted. With ghosts and what not."

You turned your head, and on his face was a grin that he could not hide. You playfully nudged him, and he snorted.

You and Merry continued walking, and your breath hitched as you noticed that neither of you took your hand off.

"What about that?" you asked, nodding towards the forest in the distance.

"There have been rumors," he responded.

"Rumors of what?"

"That the trees walk sometimes, in the dark of the night. They can be heard talking," he said in a deep voice. "They say they come alive."

"Shut up," you laughed, squeezing his hand and keeping him moving.

"I'm being serious!" he cried, looking at you with the utmost offended face.

"Alright," you chuckled and leaned your forehead against his arm for a bit, and kept walking. As you rested against him, you felt the nervous, shy tremble that traveled through Merry.

You arrived at Brandy Hall, and strolled through the yard before making your way in. You couldn't help but notice a few curious looks from fellow Hobbits, as they noticed you and Merry holding hands.

'Don't mind them. You're just friends. There's no reason to care about their stares', you thought.

When you reached the front of Merry's room, he softly brushed his thumb on the back of your hand before letting go. A shiver made its way through your arm, to the back of your neck.

"Good night," he said, and entered his room. You stood there, looking at the door for a moment, anxiously. You desperately wanted to spend more time with him.

August 15th

Saradoc had already left the study, but you were still sitting there with a large pile of paperwork to do. He had left for Bree for some sort of a meeting, and left you in charge of many things that he normally would work on.

"What does this even mean?" you mumbled to yourself, staring at the lengthy letter in front of you, the language of one you could not understand. You groaned in frustration, and tossed some of the papers on the floor.

While your face was buried in your hands, Merry's mother had found her way to you. She knocked on the door softly, and immediately noticed the few tears on your face that you had shed out of stress.

"Are you alright, dear?" she asked, sitting down next to you, looking at you with worry.

"I am alright," you said, cleared your throat and wiped your eyes, trying to suffocate the tears of stress that were forcing their way out. "I am just slightly tired."

"Did my husband leave too much work for you to do? It has been hours since your work day was supposed to end."

"It's alright," you lied, another warm tear falling on your cheek. Esmeralda tenderly caressed your face and wiped your tears away.

"You need to rest," she said, voice full of motherly care. "You have done wonderfully, dear. You can end your work for the day. Do not stress yourself too much."

You nodded, and with a small sniffle left the room, Merry's mother talking to you the whole way back.

"Do you know when your brother is moving to Crickhollow?" she asked you.

"Not sure, but I believe he had given it a thought about doing it around his birthday."

"I can't believe how gracefully he has aged. Frodo certainly is not yet old, but even still, it's lucky how youthful he still looks," Esmeralda said, and you thought about it for the first time. Your older brother still indeed looked like he was just coming of age, yet it was many years ago. You had a rising suspicion that Gandalf had something to do with it, but decided not to say anything.

"It's hereditary in a way, I suppose," you said. For the first time you found yourself thinking about how 'well preserved' your Uncle Bilbo was before he left. But even though you felt a little suspicious, you said nothing of the sort. "I mean, Uncle Bilbo was very gracefully aged before he..."

"Indeed," said Esmeralda, furrowing her brows. You immediately regretted mentioning Bilbo. "His disappearance years ago was certainly odd, to say the least."

You quickly wanted to change the subject, but could think of nothing. In a panic, you came up with the worst solution possible.

"Did you like Estella?" you blurted out, immediately feeling your face get flushed bright red. Awkwardness filled your body, and you turned your face away from Merry's mother. Never had you felt so embarrassed; why would you ask such a thing?

And Esmeralda smiled knowingly.

"I think she is a wonderful girl. We still keep in touch. But if you must know, I have always thought she was not the greatest partner my son could have. Why do you ask?"

She knew the pressure her words would bring you, and she clearly knew how you felt about his son; and definitely noticed that you were still strongly in denial.

"I was just curious," you mumbled.

"Well, I believe there is someone out there for my son who will complete him in a way no other Hobbit ever could," she said with a spark in her eye, and walked into the kitchen. You went into your room, closed the door behind you and leaned against it, hiding your face in your hands from embarrassment.

You left your room hours later when the outside of Brandy Hall had already gone dark. To your surprise, Pippin & Merry were about to knock on your door. They put their hands down in unison.

"Now, where do you think you're sneaking off to?" whispered Pippin in the darkness of the hallway, trying not to wake anyone up.

"Now, what are you doing up, sneaking around my room?" you responded with a smirk.

"We are here to drag you out," Merry said, and both of them locked one of their arms around yours. "It's time to explore the water a little more, before it gets too cold!"

"Nuh uh! Never in a million years!"

And there you were, ankle deep in the warm, calmly flowing water of the Brandywine. The water looked almost black in the night, and the moonlight made it look like melted silver was flowing through it. It was unbelievably beautiful that night, and it almost looked like the Elves had made it.

"I can't go any deeper!" you exclaimed, frozen in the spot.

"Yes, you can!" Merry said, a few feet deeper in the water. Pippin waded towards you, and lifted you up in his arms with ease.

"Pippin!" you cried, and in fear wrapped your arms around his neck. Your eyes were widening with every step Peregrin took, and soon you were a few feet further from the shore, in the arms of your friend. "Please, put me down!"

"Already? How wonderful!" Pippin said joyfully, and started lowering you down.

"Wait, no! Do not put me down!" you panicked. Merry was looking at you in Pippin's embrace, and despite his full trust in his best friend, he could not help the heat of jealousy rising to his cheeks. He made his way next to you, and put his palm gently on top of your hand.

"You can do it," he said, trying to reassure you with his gentle smile and touch.

"I don't think she can," Pippin said, clearly driving the conversation in a less encouraging direction. "Is she even brave enough?"

Merry took the mischievous hint at once and smirked. He knew you would want to prove them wrong

"Ah, that is true," said Merry, patting your hand in a way that felt extremely condescending, and there was a teasing twinkle in his eye. "She must not be brave. Kind of reminds me of a chicken."

Your face immediately dropped into one of annoyance, and despite knowing their intentions, you could not help your competitive side from surfacing.

And so you hopped off your friends arms, and the water splashed loudly as your feet hit the surface. Your feet touched the floor of the river, and the water was now halfway to your calves.

"Aha! I am not a chicken! And you two are the absolute worst!” you yelled victoriously, and quite annoyed. Both of them looked at you proudly.

"And you are one step closer to beating your fear," Merry smiled.

All three of you walked back to the shore, feet soaked and grass getting stuck on them. Pippin was once again a little ahead of you, clearly full of satisfaction from helping you with a new accomplishment.

You looked down at Merry's hand. He was rubbing his thumb and pointer finger together, itching to hold your hand. And you looked back in front of you, wondering if you were courageous enough to hold his hand in front of Pippin. Slowly, inch by inch your pinkie made its way next to his. As the warmth of his hand radiated on yours, the two of you discreetly wrapped your pinkies around one another. Neither of you even glanced at each other, but both of your faces were bright with a smile.

August 21st

You got a letter from Frodo, where he confirmed to you that he was indeed moving to Buckland right after his birthday. You were eager to see him once more before he went on an adventure with Sam.

You were partly jealous of his desire to follow Bilbo, who you missed so dearly. Ever since he left, there was a small piece of your heart missing, and you could not help but worry if he was alright out there, somewhere in Middle-Earth.

You did not respond to his letter, as you knew your brother would assume you had received it, and read it with eagerness and much joy.

You knocked on Merry's door, only to find it empty. Disappointed, you decided to go do a little extra work in the study. Saradoc had already quit work for the day, but you were itching to get your mind off a lingering doubt, a small corner in your brain telling you that something was wrong.

To your surprise, Merry was inside the study, in full focus, studying maps. You quietly walked behind him, and over his shoulder you took a look at what he was so eagerly observing.

He was turning the maps frantically, his fingers softly gliding along the brown parchment. He seemed to be tracing a path, which ended close to the Misty Mountains.

"What are you doing?" you asked curiously. Merry jumped, and the paper crinkled in his fist as he was startled by your sudden appearance.

"You scared me!" he said, his hand on his chest. "My heart is racing!"

"My apologies," you said warmly, taking a step next to him and leaning over the desk. "How come you're studying these maps so intensely?"

"I just find maps fascinating," he said casually, still trying to steady his breath from the scare.

"What's this road?" you asked, tracing the same area of the map he was going through just a few moments ago.

"I'm just trying to remember what roads Bilbo took in his adventures," Merry said, though he paused for a moment before answering. "I always found his stories fascinating, and I was feeling curious."

You began to study the map eagerly. Your sense of direction had always been quite bad, and looking at the map was tiring your brain; but you were also curious on what roads your Uncle had taken.

"He actually left plenty of maps behind," you said as you looked at the mountains spreading across the middle of the map.

"He did?" said Merry.

And soon enough, you were taking one of the maps Bilbo had drawn himself out of your drawers, and studied it with Merry, intensely for hours, while reminiscing the memorable adventures your Uncle Bilbo had gone through; the trolls that turned into stone, and even the riddles in a cave located somewhere in the Misty Mountains; and the ring he had won from a creature called Gollum.

"Do you want to go out with me?" you asked Merry, whose eyes widened as he looked at you.

"What?"

"Oh, no!" you cried, frantically shaking your head, blushing violently. "I meant outside - on a walk. Not out with me. Not that you would want to go out with me. Nor that I would want to go with you. Not that I wouldn't-"

Merry laughed loudly from the bottom of his stomach. He stood up from the chair and nodded towards the door.

"Let's go for that walk," he said with a teasing grin. You felt flustered. You let out an awkward chuckle, and followed Merry outside.

"Do you know anything about stars?" you asked, legs hanging from the edge of the bridge, the gusts of wind cooling you down. Merry had his eyes fixed on the night sky, and his gaze traveled across the different constellations, making him wonder about the complexity of the world and life itself. He was deep in his thoughts, his back pressed against the cold wood of the bridge. You called him by his name again, which seemed to snap him out of his daze.

"What?" he asked, still looking at the sky.

"I asked if you know anything about stars," you repeated in a soft tone.

"Not much, only some names and stories."

"Could you give me an example?" you said, and Merry patted the spot next to him, and you laid down on your back. The bridge felt cool against the back of your thin dress, and you found yourself hoping you had dressed differently.

"I am not entirely sure of all the names, nor what stars are of which constellations," Merry admitted humbly. "I know more things on the ground-level. Roads and such."

"Just tell me," you said impatiently, but in a playful tone. Merry smiled warmly, and pointed at the sky.

"That, I believe, is Anarríma."

"Which star?" you asked for specifics.

"All of those there, it's a constellation," he said, drawing a shape in the air in front of him. "I've heard stories of it being made from the dewdrops of one of the Two Trees of Valinor."

"What about that?" you asked, pointing at another star.

"Eärendil," Merry responded immediately.

"Really?" you asked with excitement.

"No idea," Merry snickered. You laughed a little, and soon admired the stars in Merry's eyes, instead of the beautiful night sky above you both.

He was once again lost in thought, and as you looked at his eyes, you felt your heart grow from affection. The blue in his eyes was deep and bright even in the darkness, and the longer you gazed into them, the more it felt like there was a whole universe in them, the beauty of it pulling you in and not being able to stop.

Your gaze traveled from the glimmering stars in his eyes to his nose, and from it to the tips of his ears. You noticed the small mole on his neck, next to it a few barely visible freckles. The little dimple on his chin seemed deeper as there was a shadow on it, and his lips seemed dry; you wondered if he still picked skin off his lips when he was stressed.

Merry did not notice you staring at him for a long time. His mind was elsewhere, wondering how much time he could spend with you before the time came, and how hard it would all turn out to be.

He looked at the moon and stars, and he thought of how they reminded him of the spark in your eyes, and how the beauty of them was lesser to him than the sound of your laughter. He looked at the constellations, and thought how it was impossible for him to describe in words how much more beautiful you were than any of the stars above.

You looked at him and thought of how much fun you had had with Merry for all your life, and how just his smile was always enough to make your day. You thought about how well he knew you, and about how he was always there to dry your tears. You thought about how happy he made you, and how much he believed in you.

He had always been there to help you with your self esteem, and he made sure you always felt safe and protected. He felt like home. Recently, seeing him had become the highlight of your days (not that it wasn't before), and in that moment you finally admitted that much to yourself. Some part of you was still trying to deny it all; the feelings you had that so desperately were trying to surface.

Merry turned his head so he could look at you, and you locked eyes with him. He seemed surprised to catch you staring, but unlike you had often done in the last month or so, you did not turn away. Instead, you gazed into each other's eyes, your thoughts lingering on one another.

Neither of you spoke, and the only sounds that could be heard were the quiet bubbling of the river, the blowing of the wind, and the hoot of an owl somewhere in the distance. It was a moment of peace. Without words or any movements, both of you showed how much you appreciated one another, and how important this moment was to the two of you.

September 3rd

It was the third of September by Shire-reckoning, and the leaves were slowly starting to turn orange and yellow, some crisp brown ones already falling on the ground. The wind was getting colder, and it rained more often.

"Absolutely not!" you cried, the noises of the rain almost drowning under the sound of your desperation.

"Why not?" yelled Pippin, clearly frustrated. He kept trying to hand over the furry spider in his hand. "Just pet it!"

"I don't want to!" you said, leaning back in your chair, staring at the eight legged creature in your friend's hand. You were not fond of spiders, and Pippin was determined to change that about you.

"Please? I will get you some pipe-weed if you do!" Pippin said, trying his hardest to negotiate.

"Getting over one fear is enough, and we are not even halfway there!" you told Pippin, your body tingling uncomfortably as you looked at the furry legs on the spider.

"Come on! Just one pet!" Pippin said as he stood up and walked closer to you. You immediately started pulling backwards with your chair, eyes widening with anxiety.

"Merry, make him stop!" you begged, and Merry ran from the counter to you.

"Alright, that's enough," he said, and gently took the spider off Pippin's hand. He carried the creature delicately, and as Pippin was looking away, he tilted his palm behind his neck, the spider crawling underneath the young Tooks coat. Merry whistled innocently as he walked back to the counter, and came back with three rather large pieces of carrot cake.

As the three of you were sitting down, Pippin twitched every now and then, obviously itchy. You shoved your fork in the cake, eating a large bite with no remorse.

"Everything alright?" you asked with a smirk when Pippin started scratching his neck.

"I am just feeling itchy," he grunted, trying desperately to reach his back.

"I sure hope there's no spider crawling under your clothes," Merry said, staring into Pippin's eyes, face completely emotionless while taking a bite of his moist carrot cake.

Pippin's eye twitched, and like a bunny he hopped up from his chair, and frantically started tearing his coat off, hands rapidly trying to reach the itchy spots of his skin where the spider was crawling.

"Get it off me!" Pippin screamed, his tone resembling the cries of a small child. You and Merry both laughed loudly, and you thanked him with a nod for having your back; and for doing the pranking on your behalf.

You were stumbling over your own legs in the mud, finding it hard to keep balance. Merry was taking long steps ahead of you, and the rain had completely soaked all of you. Pippin could barely keep his eyes open in the rain, and he was squinting as he waved the two of you goodbye before slowly making his way home.

The road back home was challenging and tiring. There were traces of mud up to your knees, and you kept sinking into the mud every ten minutes when the ground changed from uphill to downhill. It was pouring down so heavily that you could barely see in front of you, and instead of grass, there seemed to be slimy, dark, wet and thick dirt everywhere, making it almost impossible to take even one step.

Your foot hit a branch hidden by the mud and you fell face first to the ground. The whole front of your body sank, and you spat some dirt out of your mouth. There was mud under your nails, under your clothes, between your toes and on your lips. Merry bent over and lifted you up by your armpits. You felt miserable, and his expression was not one of happiness either.

You walked with him for an hour more, the walk taking almost twice as long as it normally did.

You were shivering, irritated and wet when you finally made it to your room. Merry let you know he was going to get you some clean towels so you could bathe in peace, even though the thought of any more water made you almost physically ill; but you had to get all the mud off.

Before heating the bathwater you cleaned your drenched, dirty clothes and hung them up to dry; though the lace hem of your dress seemed like a lost cause.

The bathwater was warm, and as you sank in the tub, it felt like all your worries washed away.

Despite your fear of water, you loved taking long baths; after all it was not the same thing, since you could get out whenever you wanted and drowning in your own bathtub was very unlikely. You closed your eyes and your fingertips played with the water as you laid there, trying to empty your mind.

You got out of the bath after almost an hour. You finally felt clean and relaxed, all of the irritation created by the weather having washed away. You put on a warm, pale blue bathrobe and excited the bathroom. You made your way back to your room, the pattering of your feet echoing quietly in the hallway.

Merry was leaning against the wall to the left of your door, and his eyes were closed. To you he looked like he had fallen asleep, but his eyes flashed open when he heard you, and a wide smile came across his face.

"Why aren't you sleeping yet?" you asked quietly, walking to him.

"I wanted to make sure you're okay," he said warmly, his eyes quickly shifting to look at your clothing. "You look cozy."

"I feel incredibly at peace right now," you chuckled in a whisper, and let your head collapse against his shoulder. "Thank you for not hating me. I was very agitated out there."

"In the bathroom?" joked Merry, and you let out a small snicker.

"Yes, in the bathroom," you replied sarcastically.

"It was no trouble," he said, resting his cheek on the top of your head, making your heart jump to your throat by the sudden response to your affection; despite it happening more and more frequently. You shuddered slightly, but said nothing about it.

"That weather was dreadful," you said quietly, shivering from just the thought of it.

"Indeed," Merry said, and he lifted his head back up. "Hey," he said and gave you a nudge with his elbow. You lifted your head, looking him deep in his eyes. Your eyes were almost fluttering shut from how tired you felt, yet you could not stop looking at him.

"What?" you said, your tired state obvious from your voice.

"I mean it" he said, his tone full of affection, and his eyes glimmering with care and admiration as he looked at you. “It was no trouble. You know that, right?”

"I do," you responded with a soft smile. “I know I can count on you.”

It was almost like a habit at this point. The two of you looked at each other in silence, both getting lost in each other's eyes, minds endlessly racing with questions about what you really were feeling, wondering if it was mutual and how things would turn out; for the better or the worse. You both knew most of the answers already, though neither of you said it out loud to the other; it was too much of a risk to take.

As you started to pull yourself back, you took a small glance at his lips, and when you were not looking, Merry glimpsed at yours.

"Good night, Merry."

"Good night," he responded, and started walking to the direction of his room.

You turned towards your door and were already halfway in, when Merry made his way back to you. Confused, you turned around and stood at your door. He did not even glance elsewhere, as his gaze was fixed on you.

The tension in the air was palpable, and the curiosity and anticipation in your heart grew. You looked at him, the pounding of your heart getting louder. Slowly he placed his hand on your cheek. His thumb brushed across the warmth of your blush, and you could not look him in his eyes as he caressed your face so gently. You swallowed nervously, avoiding his gaze and pressing your lips together.

He lifted your face up with a tender motion, forcing you to look him in his eyes. He tilted his head as he smiled so fondly, and he admired you for a short moment before he leaned in. He pressed his lips softly on your forehead. You closed your eyes as a wave of affection pushed through you and filled your heart. His lips lingered between your brows before he softly pulled away.

Shyly, you looked up at him, his hand still holding your face in a soft embrace. Never had you blushed this much before; you felt the heat all across your face, and it felt like your ears were about to burn off. His fingers caressed the curves of your pointy ear softly, before he let go of you.

"Good night," he said again.

"Good night," you said so quietly it was barely coherent. He put his hands in his pockets and walked away, once more smiling at you over his shoulder, before disappearing behind the corner.

You watched him walk away, and your hand was resting on your chest, right where your heart was pounding. You caressed the soft material of your bathrobe, and made your way in your room. You closed the door slowly, and walked to your bed in the darkness of the room.

As you were laying there under your soft sheets, your face was still warm and the feeling of his lips was lingering on your skin. You could not stop thinking about his embrace and how disappointed you felt. When Merry turned back to you, hope in your heart had grown; you wished he would have kissed you. Not on the forehead, but you craved to know how it would feel to have his lips softly on yours.

And so, you finally admitted it to yourself: Merry's feelings were not one-sided.

September 10th

You were avoiding Merry. Admitting your feelings to yourself was a big step for you, but the fear of rejection was creeping up your neck. What if he no longer had feelings for you, and that's why he had become more comfortable with physical touch again?

More than anything, you felt overwhelmed; how had you been so blind, almost all your life?

The paintbrush in your hand was shaking slightly, and the strokes of paint were uneven. You could not keep your focus on the painting no matter how hard you tried. All you could think about was Merry, and the fears that came with your emotions were smothering you. Insecurities were rising to the surface, and you could not stay still.

You tossed the paintbrush on the canvas, frustrated by your own inability to gather up the courage to just confront Merry and ask him how he felt; if he still felt the same. The paint spread unevenly on the canvas, and a few drops of the blue splashed across your face. You let out a loud grunt of frustration, and shrank down on the floor.

You lifted your knees up, and buried your face in them. Anxiety and a sense of failure was building up in your body, and your breathing became shallow. There was loud ringing in your ears that drowned away all the sounds around you. The beat of your heart was rapidly increasing, and cold sweat ran down your neck, and shivers went up your spine. You felt tears rising to your eyes, and as they started flowing down across your face, you lost the control of your own body.

The air felt tight around you; like it was trying to squeeze you between two hard walls, and you wanted to scream, but no air came out of your lungs.

The fear of losing Merry had filled you again, the panic taking control over your brain and shaking your body. You were frozen to the spot, sobbing uncontrollably and the only thing you wanted to do was bury yourself in your best friend's arms.

There was a part of you hoping that everything would return back to normal; that none of it had happened. You were so overwhelmed with fear and anxiety, that you couldn't be around Merry. A part of you hoped it would have just stayed like it used to be; just two close friends, cuddling without anything else between them but platonic care; but deep down you knew now that it had never been like that. The feelings were always there; it just took you both years to realize it.

You could not take it anymore. The panic was burying every inch of you underneath it, so you mustered up the strength to get up, and run to Merry's room. You knocked on the door, your hands shaking and your thoughts unkempt. You felt like you were about to collapse from the dizziness when Merry opened his door.

His face turned into one of intense concern when he saw the tears in your eyes, and the uncontrollable shaking of your body. He saw the way you were swaying left and right, trying to keep yourself on your feet. He had helped you through many panic attacks in all the years you had been friends, and in a matter of seconds he had pulled you into his room and taken you into a warm, comforting embrace.

Merry had been anxiously analyzing why you had been avoiding him, and finding you on his doorstep in such a state filled him with worry and fear.

"It's alright," he whispered softly, while stroking your hair with tender movements. Your face was buried in his chest, the tears covering the front of his shirt. He feared he had crossed a line and done something to upset you. "Did something happen?"

You shook your head, and your fists clung to the back of his shirt as you kept crying in his arms.

He gave you a glass of water, and the water kept spilling over the edge from the shakiness of your hands. Merry placed his hands gently over yours, steadying the glass. He helped you take a sip of it, looking at you, his eyes full of pity.

"Thank you," you said quietly, looking down at the glass and avoiding eye contact.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked in a tender, calming manner.

"No."

"That's alright," he said, his thumbs softly caressing the backs of your hands.

You sat there on the edge of his bed in silence, and Merry said nothing either. He comforted you for a long time, caressing your hands until you stopped shaking.

"Merry," you said, voice cracking again, the tears trying to resurface. You looked at him, swallowing and holding back tears. He was kneeling in front of you, still softly petting your hands. You had to tell him. It was killing you. You had to gather yourself.

"Yes?" Merry responded, still visibly worried.

"Can I stay here for the night?" you said, disappointed with yourself for not being able to tell him just how deeply you felt for him.

Merry gave you a soft nod, and got up. He walked to a large closet in his room, and took a moment to find the most comfortable blanket he had. He pulled the duvet cover off the left side of the bed, and placed the blanket he had dug out for you on that side.

You got up, and with unsteady steps you made your way to your resting place for the night. Merry put his palm softly on your back and helped you lay down. He pulled the blanket over your shaking body, and went to blow out the candles. He crawled under his blanket, and slightly to your side of the bed. You were laying on your side, your back facing him, when he wrapped his arm around you tightly, and gave a soft peck on the top of your hair. You trembled, and pressed your back tightly against his chest, squeezing his hand.

"It's going to be alright," he whispered, and held to your hand tightly.

Swiftly you had calmed down, and drifted off to the most peaceful sleep you had had in a week. Merry did not sleep, but he held you through the whole night, hoping he could stay there forever.

September 12th

You were sitting across Frodo, enjoying some freshly baked bread. The butter melted on your tongue, and you moaned your mouth full of bread from the taste.

"This is delicious!" you mumbled, taking another large bite. Frodo was looking at you, faintly smiling.

You were eating there, blabbering about your new job, and thanking your brother endlessly for helping you get back to work.

Some of the stuff in Bag End had already been sold or given to family members and friends, and the feeling of home was slightly being drained away. You were lucky enough to have Merry so close to you, so the feeling of being home was not going to disappear completely once Frodo moved out.

"Have you enjoyed helping Saradoc with his work?" Frodo asked, sipping his freshly squeezed orange juice.

"Yes, but it's very draining from time to time," you responded. You took a moment to enjoy some full red wine Frodo had offered you, before you continued explaining the complexity of assignments working for the Master of Buckland brought.

Frodo was listening to you intensely, enjoying your company more than ever, as he knew he had to leave soon. Gandalf had warned him about the dangers of carrying the Ring, even to just Rivendell; and he was fearing he might never see you again.

You were so enthusiastically telling the story of Merry and Pippin helping you go deeper in the Brandywine again, that you did not notice how much sorrow there was in your brother's eyes, or how guilty he was feeling.

When you finished telling the story of conquering yet another step of coming over your fears, Frodo fixed his composure and smiled at you, hiding his concerned heart.

"You seem happy," he said warmly.

You responded with a faint smile. Desperately you wanted to ask for his advice. You were itching to tell him about everything that had been going on with you and Merry, but the thought of opening up your heart to anyone was making you feel uneasy. But you decided to try it regardless.

"Can I ask you something?" you asked him, not noticing how forcefully your hands were fidgeting with the cutlery in your hands. Frodo took note of it, but decided to pretend he had noticed nothing.

"Of course," he said. "What's on your mind?"

You struggled to find the right words. There was an overwhelming need to tell him everything; how good it felt when Merry held you, and how deep your feelings for him were.

"Would you tell someone if you had realized you felt more for them? More than a friendship?" you asked, deciding to go through a different but direct route when it came to getting advice from your brother. He smiled knowingly.

"Do they feel the same way?" Frodo asked, trying to keep you as comfortable as he could.

"I am not sure," you responded honestly, and dropped the fork you were fiddling with. It hit the floor with a loud cling, but you were too focused on asking for help to pick it up and clean it. You were trying to avoid giving away who you were talking about; even though Frodo knew.

"I think communicating about these things are important," he said. "If you feel like they feel the same way about you, you should talk to them about it. And even if they didn't; I believe it would be wise to tell."

"But what if I'm afraid?"

"Fear is a part of life," Frodo said, shifting in his seat. "You just have to accept that there are many ways the conversation could go. It could end in happiness or heartbreak. You just have to take the leap, and accept the result; even if it feels unbearable as a thought right now."

You gave him a half-smile, and kept drinking your wine in silence. Deep in your thoughts, you finished your glass of red, and Frodo filled it to the top.

His words were wise, and you knew it was the right decision to go to your brother for advice.

"Thank you," you said quietly.

"Can I ask you something in return?" Frodo asked.

"Yes," you nodded.

"Are you talking about Pervinca Took?" he said, smirking as he knew you used to have a crush on Pippin's sister. He was trying to make you laugh a little, as he was of course not oblivious to the fact that you were talking about Merry.

You looked down at your glass, swirling around the red wine. A faint, amused smile was on your face.

"You know I'm not talking about her," you said quietly.

"Indeed, I do."

You nodded, and took another rather large sip of the full bodied wine.

Chapter Text

You were sitting on the grass, rustling and colorful leaves around you, and a book in your hands. The air smelled sweet, and you were wearing a dark-red cloak to keep you warm; the weather was getting chilly again.

You turned the page in a fully captivated state, the book swallowing your whole attention. Every twist and turn in the story made your toes curl, and the biggest twists made you gasp out loud.

There was quiet crinkling as your fingers rubbed the dry brown leaves on the ground and turned them into dust. There was guilt lingering in your body, for it was your brother's birthday the next day, and you would not make it.

A few days ago when you got the work schedule from the Brandybucks, you smiled and thanked them, but internally a wave of disappointment rode through you. The day of Frodo's birthday and several days after that, you were assigned more tasks at work than usual; even preparations for another celebration thrown by Esmeralda Brandybuck was put on your shoulders. You were to plan most of it, decorations and all. It was still a few weeks away, but she wanted the planning to be done as quickly as possible.

You were not thrilled to miss the quiet birthday celebration of your beloved brother, and you had desperately craved to see Bag End one last time before the Sackville-Bagginses got their nasty fingers on it. But it was no use; you had work to do.

Merry had let Frodo know you would not be able to make it, and the word soon got to you that your brother was not angry, but you still felt guilty; he must have been at least a little disappointed.

The book ended on a cliffhanger so intense, you almost choked on your own spit when you saw that there were no more words left, no matter how many times you went through the last pages in hopes of finding more.

You were still sitting on the grass when Merry sat down next to you and grabbed the book out of your hands.

"Hey!" you cried out playfully, your heart warming up at the sight of him.

Merry smiled at you, and started flipping through the pages. He read some words here and there, before he handed the book back to you.

"That seems interesting," he said in a teasing tone; clearly he found the book ridiculous.

"It is quite adventurous, actually, so yes, it is interesting!" you huffed, gently swatting at him with the book. Merry chuckled and tried to dodge your swatting.

"I haven't really seen you today," said Merry, resting his chin on your shoulder and looking at you with admiration. You felt his gaze piercing you, but you just smiled and looked forward into the horizon.

"I just wanted to enjoy a good book before the heavy lifting started," you responded with a sigh.

"Do you really have that much work ahead of you?" Merry asked.

"Unfortunately," you said, disappointed. "I really wanted to see Frodo."

"I know," Merry responded and gave your back a gentle rub. "But he understood."

You nodded, not believing his words entirely. You gently rested your head on his, which pressed his chin deep into your shoulder, making your face flinch a little, but you didn't mind the uncomfortable pressure; it was from Merry being close to you, after all.

"How about you?" you asked, and Merry took his head off your shoulder, but he was still leaning close to you as the two of you sat there.

"What about me?"

"What are you going to do when you get to Bag End?" you asked.

"I am thinking of stealing the gift you have for him and giving it to him," he smirked. "And claim it's my own!"

"Don't you dare!" you cried in a loud giggle. Merry put his arm around you and pulled you closer, laughing with you.

"In all seriousness, I am going to take a pony and the carriage. I promised him I would help him move."

"Will it take long?" you asked, still leaning against him in his arms. You had butterflies in your stomach, and they were fluttering their wings so aggressively you felt like you might throw up on Merry.

"A few days, I suppose," he answered. "I will start bringing some of the furniture to Buckland as soon as possible, and there's bound to be a few trips there and back."

"Are you going there tomorrow?" you asked, and Merry shook his head.

"I'm actually going to go over there tonight," he said. "Frodo celebrates tomorrow, but I have promised to help him arrange some last minute things."

"I see," you said and smiled against his collar. "You're a great friend."

Merry took a deep breath and started slowly stroking your hair. Merry's aura was sad, but at that moment you figured it must have been because Merry would not see Frodo and Sam for a while either when they were to go on their adventure, and follow Bilbo for a while.

"Merry?"

"Yes?"

"When do you have to leave?" you asked quietly. His fingers were brushing through your hair in soft movements, and his heartbeat close to your ear was calming and making your head fuzzy.

"Not for a moment," he said quietly, taking deep breaths. You looked up at him, and he smiled down at you, but his eyes were sad.

"Is everything alright?" you asked him.

"Everything is alright."

You nodded and smiled, before wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him more tightly. He pressed his chin on the top of your head as he looked to the distance, and as you were filled with warmth, he was feeling suffocated by his own guilt and sadness; although you didn't notice.

You sat there with him for a few hours, talking about everything between the grass you were on, to the sun in the sky.

You both laughed so hard that tears fell from your eyes, when you looked back at the time you were baking bread together and got into a fight over the only good measuring cup. You were both covered in flour, throwing it at each other like you were at war. The memory of it made both of you feel at ease and your hearts swell with happiness.

The sun started to go down, making the sky a gradient of pink and orange. The clouds looked like they were painted in the sky, and the colors were so vibrant you could not take your eyes off of it. Merry was not staring at the sky, but at you. He was looking at your ears, your chin and your eyes.

His eyes were tracing your jawline, and his heart was beating fast as he admired your smile and lips. The child-like giggle you let out when you pointed at the cloud shaped like a pumpkin made his heart drop to his stomach, and the way your eyes were sparkling when you admired the sky made him smile faintly; but apathy was still slowly taking over him.

"I need to go now," he said, and slowly stood up, brushing the grass and bits of leaves off his trousers. You stood up after him, and picked up some grass out of your hair.

"Let me know when you get back, alright?" you said to him. Merry gave you a faint nod, and wrapped his arms around you.

He lingered there for a while, and you were slightly taken aback by how long he hugged you. His face was buried in your neck, and his heart was beating against you. He breathed in your scent in silence and without you noticing, and he swallowed his sadness and put on a weak smile. He pulled away from you, his gaze traveling across the features of your face.

"I hope you don't have a rough day at work tomorrow," he said with a quiet chuckle.

"I hope so too," you laughed. "I should go to bed. Are you coming inside before you leave?"

"No, I really should go. I have a pony waiting for me."

"Alright," you responded, smiling with your teeth as you could no longer hide how happy it made you when his eyes were on you.

"I hope you sleep well," he said, his hands in his coat pockets.

"I hope so too," you smiled. "I could use a good night's sleep. Good night, Merry."

"Good night," he responded, and the two of you started walking in opposite directions. You to your room, and Merry to where he was keeping the pony and carriage that he was to take to Bag End.

You stopped by Merry's door and knocked on it in hopes that he had already returned. There was no answer, but despite that, you opened the door. It was relatively dark, but some of the last rays of sunshine were still lighting up corners of the room. His bed was made, and it seemed like he had taken some of his personal stuff with him for the stay at Frodo's.

You decided to go into his room despite him not being there. Slowly closing the door, you made your way in. There were some maps lying around, and the birthday present you had for Frodo was gone. It had been two days already, and you couldn't help but wonder what took him so long. He had said it would take a few days, but he also said there would be back and forth movements; why had he not visited his home at all?

Your brother's birthday was the day before, and you were trying to figure out if they just needed a few days to settle into Crickhollow. In hopes of seeing him coming back on his pony, you peeked outside the window; but there was nothing, except some trees and a patch of dried flowers. With a deep sigh, you exited his room and got back to work. You still had plenty of things to do, and you wanted to get the list of chores done as fast as possible.

You were watering the flowers in the hallway, when you heard a few Brandybucks talk about Merry. Your ears perked up, and you tried to be discreet with your eavesdropping.

"Why did he take so many ponies?" asked the other Hobbit, slightly taller than the other, with dark brown curls and striking green eyes. The smaller Hobbit shrugged his shoulders.

"Merry just said he needed them for something, and I didn't ask many questions," he responded. Your gaze narrowed, and you glanced at their direction.

"Probably as a gift to Frodo Baggins," chuckled the other. Both nodded in agreement, clearly making fun of your brother, adding to the rumors of him running out of money. "He needs some aid at this point. Poor fellow had to sell Bag End and everything."

Warmth spread in your body, and you felt an urge to snap at them. You wanted to yell at them for saying such things, but your mind was buzzing, and you could not stop wondering; why on earth did Merry take so many ponies with him? And when he had returned for a moment, why did he not come say hello?

The next morning was cold, and the first thing you did was check up if the ponies and Merry had returned yet. They were still seemingly at Frodo's new house, much to your disappointment.

The outside was foggy, and you could not see far ahead. The few ponies that were left at the stable looked almost mystical in the smoke-like fog around them, but somehow the surroundings that morning felt threatening, and not being able to see properly ahead was making you feel uneasy. You fed the horses, and made your way back inside as quickly as possible. It felt like there were eyes on you where you could not see them.

Inside you watered some flowers which you did not have time to water the day before, and couldn't help but notice one of the prettiest orchids had withered. You pouted slightly at the sight, and carried the dead plant outside to the compost before you went back in the house, as the weather outside was still making you nervous.

You were mixing the pancake batter quite furiously. The spatula made a loud noise as it hit the edges of the bowl, as your growing nervousness was making you anxious. You heated up the stove, and poured some of the batter on the hot pan.

As you baked one pancake after the other, your increasing anxiety made you pour the last patch a little too strongly, and some hot, melted butter splashed on the kitchen surface and your arm. With a small grunt you finished the last pancake, and soon afterwards dunked your arm into a bowl of cold water. As you sat there waiting for the burning sensation to stop and the pancakes to cool down, you thought of your brother and how much you were going to miss him. You weren't sure if he had already left, but judging by Merry's absence, he must have not made his way out of Crickhollow yet.

The pancakes were quickly consumed by the little Hobbits you had prepared all the food for, and one of the youngest girls thanked you by hugging you so tightly you felt like you might run out of air. You lifted her in your arms, and smiled at her fondly.

"Thank you for the pancakes, Miss!" she said again with a cheerful smile.

"You're most welcome. Now go play," you said, tickling her from her side. She giggled loudly, the beautiful and innocent laugh echoing around the small kitchen. You couldn't help but smile, and put her down from your arms and gently pushed her to the direction of the other small Hobbits who were now running out of the kitchen, cheering and laughing.

The innocent nature of them made your heart feel full, and you hoped they would stay that way forever. You still had some child-like wonder and innocence in your heart, but growing up had of course taken some of it away. You hoped you could stay like that forever.

Your arm was no longer stinging as much, as you had applied a salve on it that Merry's mother provided you with when she visited the kitchen to see how you were holding up.

Your hands were deep in the warm, soapy water as you tried to wrap the slimy wet food between your fingers. You scrunched your nose, disgusted at the sight of a soaked piece of moldy bread. With a small gag you threw it in the trash can next to you and kept doing the dishes.

You kept thinking about Merry, and a smile lingered on your face for long. Now that a few days had gone by without his presence, you realized just how deeply you felt for him. You decided to finally gather your courage and tell him how you really felt, hoping he would return your feelings. Just the thought of wrapping your arms around Merry again filled your belly with butterflies, and the image of his face in your head was making you blush as you scrubbed the plate in your hands.

"Are you doing alright sweetie?" asked Esmeralda, snapping you out of your dream-like state.

"Yes, thank you," you responded, not aware of just how wide you were smiling and how red your face was. Esmeralda smiled knowingly, and walked beside you to help with the dishes.

"I appreciate all the work you have done these past few days," she said warmly, rinsing the plates and cutlery you had put aside.

"It's no trouble," you said, though still upset about not being able to see Frodo for his birthday. "I do like my work here a lot."

Esmeralda smiled, and in silence you kept doing the dishes. Merry's mother broke the silence after a while when she glanced at the burn mark on your arm.

"Did the salve help?" she asked. "It's a recipe that has run in my family for generations, and for me it has always worked wonders."

"Oh, it helped plenty," you answered, a plate dropping back into the water from your slippery hands. You picked it up and checked for any cracks in it. Luckily it was not damaged, and you kept scrubbing it.

"That's good," she said and took the plate from you gently, rinsing it and drying it with a kitchen towel. "You know, I have to say that I was very surprised with the amount of work you have already done. I feared it might be too much."

"It has been quite a lot, but not at all too much."

"I was just surprised that you did not want to attend your brother's birthday."

You stopped everything for a moment. Her words confused you. They were not true at all, and the idea that she might have started to lose her memory crossed your mind.

"What do you mean?" you asked, puzzled.

"Oh, don't get me wrong dear!" she said, still actively washing the dishes before she noticed you had stopped. "It's just that when Meriadoc told me that you wanted to be busy with work for a few days, I was surprised, that's all. I understand if you are mad at your brother for selling your home, but I do hope that it is not the reason you wanted to miss his birthday party."

"What?" you asked, filled with confusion. Why had Merry said something like that?

"I didn't mean to offend you, dear. I just-"

"Oh! You did not offend me at all," you interrupted, and softly put your hand on her shoulder. You hid your confusion behind a confident, reassuring smile. And so you lied: "It just felt like a lot. I'm sure I'll be seeing Frodo soon."

Esmeralda smiled fondly, and the two of you did dishes quietly for thirty more minutes before you moved to other tasks.

You could not focus on your work properly. Mopping the floors felt like an exhausting exercise as your mind was overwhelmed with so many questions of Merry's intentions. The worry inside you grew; why did he want to keep you so occupied?

After mopping the floors you went to Merry's mother, and claimed to have a throbbing headache. She put her palm on your forehead to check your temperature, and despite the fact that you were lying, she was convinced you were running a fever. She told you it was alright to end work early and go get some rest. And so you did.

You were laying in your bed restlessly, tossing and turning, eyes wide open and your breathing unsteady. You kept fiddling with your pillow, hugging it tightly and stretching the fabric of it in anxiety. You tried to come up with a reason for Merry's lies, and a hundred different scenarios were running through your mind; maybe he was tired of you? Maybe there was someone else and your feelings were one-sided? Maybe he was ill and didn't tell anyone?

You stood up from your bed while taking deep, calming breaths. You exhaled shakily, and took your red cloak from the chair beside your desk where you had tossed it that morning. It was like a warm, comforting blanket wrapping around you, and so you made your way outside.

It was already dark, and you were walking through the small field, admiring the stars. You had heard of strange folk walking near the Shire for the past few days, and you feared Merry might have come across someone who could have hurt him. You tried to shake these thoughts off, when you heard some rustling of leaves. Your heart began to pound, and you wondered if it was the same pressuring gaze approaching you that you had felt through the fog.

But to your relief, Merry approached you from the dark. You skipped over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Well that took you long enough!" you chuckled, relieved and filled with happiness. It felt like everything in the world would be alright, and his warmth made your fears wash away; for a moment. He hugged you, but not as tightly as he normally did. You pulled away from the hug, and looked at him with concern. You could tell he was not feeling alright. "Is everything alright?"

Merry did not answer immediately, and your heart sank with fear. Did he have someone else? Was something wrong with Frodo?

"I'm sorry I didn't come here earlier," he said in a low voice, looking at you with pity.

"You're here now, that's what's important," you said, smiling. Your smile faded away quickly as you saw that he was clearly struggling with something. Your fear grew again. "Merry, what's wrong? Is Frodo alright?"

Merry did not answer immediately. He took your hands in his gently, looking down at them quietly. His thumbs were brushing the backs of your hands tenderly, and he was struggling to get the words out of his mouth.

"Frodo is alright," he said, a small relief washing over you. "But I need to go. We need to go. Pippin, Fatty and I."

"Go where?" you asked, and the relief in your heart was replaced with dread.

"With Frodo and Sam," he said hesitantly, squeezing your hands softly, not looking at you.

You felt a wave of sadness. Merry was leaving for a few months to go after Bilbo, and you felt offended he had not asked you to come with him and Pippin.

"Oh," you responded, disappointed. "When are you coming back?"

Merry did not answer. He swallowed, still avoiding your gaze. He held your hands tightly, taking heavy breaths. His hands started to tremble. Your heart began pounding. You softly called his name two times before he answered.

"I'm not sure if I'll be coming back," he said with a shaky voice. Your heart dropped. "I'm not sure if... if any of us..."

"Merry, you're scaring me."

Merry's eyes were watering, but he was trying not to fall apart. He swallowed his tears and finally looked you in the eyes, still caressing your hands with his thumbs.

"We have planned to go with Frodo for some time, and all of this has turned out to be more dangerous than we thought. He needs me. He needs us with him, and..."

"Wait, I don't understand," you said, confused and voice trembling. "Frodo and Sam are going to follow Bilbo for a while. Why would that be dangerous?"

Merry didn't answer. You stared at him in silence, hands shaking as you waited for him to answer you.

"That's not exactly the whole truth."

"Then what is the truth, Merry?" you asked, and Merry went quiet again, avoiding your gaze. "Please, Merry. He's my brother and... I need to know if there's more going on."

"I can't tell you."

"What do you mean you can't tell me?" you asked, irritated by his secretive behavior.

"It's too dangerous, and I have made a promise to not say anything. I just wanted to see you before I left. I couldn't leave without saying goodbye.”

Your heart was beating so rapidly you were barely hearing what he was saying. He really was planning on leaving, and seemed like he was not going to ask you to come with him; but that was not alright with you.

"You were going to leave without saying goodbye? No. And I'm coming with you."

"No. I promised Frodo I would keep you safe. And the best way to keep you unharmed, is to tell you as little as I can and to keep you here. Buckland and the Shire are the safest places for you, and-"

Your legs felt weak and it felt like you were going to explode from anger, confusion and grief.

"I'm coming with you," you repeated, voice trembling, ears heating up. "I don't care what it's about. You can't leave me. Not when I was just about to…"

Merry looked at you again, his heart filled with sorrow. Tears were in his eyes, and he was doing everything to hold them back again. He was shaking more as he held your hands in his.

"I'm so sorry. You're my best friend, and I-"

"Stop with the bullshit, Merry. We both know this is more than that!" you cried angrily. He had to know this was more than friendship. He was not allowed to leave; not now when you had just decided to tell him how you felt.

Merry kept quiet, your words deeply impacting him. His guilt was starting to overwhelm him, and the grief of leaving you behind was breaking his heart in a million pieces.

"I have to go. I'm sorry."

"Merry, please," you cried, tears in your eyes, your voice breaking. "Tell me you're going to come back. Promise me."

Merry swallowed his tears once again, his hands trembling as he loosened his grip.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking as he let go of your hands and turned away.

You lost all control and tears started flowing out of your eyes as you clung onto his arms.

"Merry, please don't go," you sobbed desperately. He said nothing, and did not look back, holding his pain inside. He was still doing everything in his might to keep himself together, and not give in and take you with him. After a moment he was already walking away and you were no longer holding onto him; you were standing where he left you, begging for him not to leave. "Merry, please. Don't leave me. I need you here. You can't leave me behind. Please, don't go!"

But Merry walked away. He disappeared from your view into the darkness, and you fell on your knees. You held onto your stomach as it felt like you were going to vomit from the pain and heartache. Your heart had been ripped out of your chest and all of your friends were gone. Your brother was gone. More than that, Merry was gone too and you did not know if he was ever going to come back. You didn't know if you were ever going to see him again.

There you stayed, crying. You sobbed uncontrollably, panic and fear taking over your body. You were left there on your hands and knees, begging for him to not go. But Merry was long gone, and so was your brother and all of your friends.

And you were left behind.

Chapter Text

The blanket around you felt suffocating instead of providing you with comfort, and every little trinket in your room filled you with memories, reminding you of how alone you were.

It had been days since your friends left. You had not felt such sorrow in a long time. You had cried for days and now there were no more tears left to cry.

You kept thinking about your brother, Pippin, Fatty and Sam. More than them you kept thinking about Merry. All you wanted in that state of mind was for him to hold you and take your worries away; but he was not there anymore. You didn't know where he was, what he was doing and all you wanted was for him to come back home.

The look on his face when he finally told you he was leaving was haunting you, and desperately you wanted it to be a bad dream; but it was the reality and you were alone, feeling betrayed. Your heart was hurting from everyone lying to you for months, even though deep down you did understand their intentions. It was important especially to Frodo and Merry to keep you safe, but you still hoped they would have taken you with them.

Your bedroom was unkempt and dark in the night, and your dirty dress from working in the yard for days was lying in the middle of the floor. You used work as an excuse to not be left alone with your thoughts, but slowly the sadness consumed you even when you were gardening or planning Esmeralda's party.

You were tossing and turning around in your sleep, your dreams revolving around running after Merry. This had been their theme for the past several days. In the dreams you ran through thick and dark woods and dry plains, crossed many wide rivers, lakes and even snowy mountains, but you couldn't get to him.

The dreams slightly changed every night, and on the night of September 30th you were struggling in your sleep. In your dream you were trying to hold your balance on a cliff. Your foot slipped on the cold, grey and rocky surface before you fell backwards. You fell for long before the water you plunged into consumed you, taking away your ability to breathe.

Then a sound woke you up. A sound you were not familiar with. A sound that had not been heard in a hundred years.

FEAR! FIRE! FOES! AWAKE!

Your eyes flashed open at the sound of the Horn-call, and you were already sitting up before your head caught up. Cold sweat was covering your forehead and back, leaving your hair damp. Outside the door there was running, loud talking and you could distinctly hear weapons being drawn as Hobbits made their way out of Brandy Hall.

As you hopped out of bed, your heart was beating rapidly as the sounds had startled you awake so quickly. Outside the window you could see barely anything, as it was still dark and there was a lot of mist. There was also a growing fear in your heart as you looked outside, so you turned your face away almost immediately.

Suddenly the most deafening and scraping sound pierced your ears. The wail made you drop on the floor, bruising your knees as you fell down and covered your ears. You did not know what it was, but your heart was filled with terror.

You didn't move for several minutes. Your body was trembling uncontrollably and your face was pale from fear. You couldn't hear the high-pitched cry anymore, but there were still residents of Buckland running in and out, looking for someone - or something in panic.

The Brandybucks had blown the Horn-call of Buckland and although the sound of it was in a way very encouraging, the sudden noise had startled you and the loud screech had made you tremble uncontrollably.

You were calming down one of the children in the hallway. He was shaking, tears flowing out of his eyes as he was clueless on what was happening and his innocent soul was full of dread and confusion. You kept patting his back and rocking him back and forth, while trying to keep yourself from being driven into the same state of fear again.

"Poor Fatty," said a young man, smoking a pipe. "Poor fellow seemed shaken. Do we know who or what the invader was?"

"What?" you asked as you heard him speak of Fredegar. "What about Fatty?"

"He was found on a doorstep, panicking and babbling nonsense," he responded. "Eventually we realized there has been an invasion but we know nothing more."

You nodded a thank you, while comforting the child in your arms. Why was Fatty still in Buckland? Why had they left without him?

There was still a fuzz the next day. Everyone was talking about the mysterious scream and poor Fatty Bolger. There were plans and talk of how much more protection would be needed but you did not say much, and just the mention of the loud, piercing cry was making your blood cold. Your heart was broken, and between the cracks of it was now a new kind of fear; the fear of the source of that noise getting to Merry.

Merry was still feeling shaken by what Strider had called 'The Black Breath'. As far as he knew, he was about to be taken by Black Riders. He had no recollection of what happened between collapsing to the ground and being woken up. He ran to his friends straight away to alert them, not even taking a moment to think about what had happened. All he knew was that he was terrified and his body had given up.

Merry was laying there under his blanket, every now and then opening his eyes to glance at this stranger called Strider who was looking outside the window. His stare was intense and his posture confident yet alert. The room felt cold and Merry was curled up in a ball under the blanket, slightly still trembling; though he was not sure if it was because of the Black Riders or the cold room.

What eventually started calming him down, was the thought of you living safely back in Buckland. His heart was full of sorrow when he thought of you, and the guilt was overwhelming him when he remembered how he had left you. Merry's thoughts circled back to your words when he called you his best friend: 'Stop with the bullshit, Merry. We both know this is more than that!'

The words were ringing in his ear, haunting him and tears were in his eyes when he thought about how deeply he felt for you. And now Merry knew it wasn't just friendship for you either; but he was gone. Yet, he still had hope inside him. Merry knew everything would be alright as long as you were still safe.

"You should get some rest, Merry," said Strider in a warm tone. He had noticed Merry was awake, staring at the ceiling. Merry nodded, and turned around so that his back was facing the Ranger. Merry was glancing at his backpack, itching to dive into it and dig out the note he took with him as a reminder of you.

The note was one that you had written to him when he had started to notice his feelings for you. You were visiting Brandy Hall one day when Merry wasn't there. You had left a note on his desk about wanting to meet him at the Green Dragon later, and you had drawn a small heart next to the words.

He thought of the note and slowly he began to relax, even though it felt like torture to be away from you. Merry eventually drifted to sleep for a few hours before Strider woke them up.

You were tapping your foot furiously. You could not get in touch with Fredegar Bolger no matter how hard you tried. You wanted answers and you wanted them immediately. There were strange men walking around the Shire and everything felt off. You couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen soon. Whether it was to you, Merry, Frodo or Middle-Earth, it did not matter; you had to get out of there. You had to get to Merry.

That morning was a very intriguing experience to you and many other Hobbits for the weather was also strange. It was still early and the sun had not yet come up. There was very little light outside, but to you it seemed a little bit more bright than usual. You walked to the other side of your room and peeked outside the round bedroom window. To your (or everyone's) surprise, a tiny amount of snow had fallen over Buckland during the night. Snow anywhere near the Shire was very rare, and you had not touched snow even once in all your years as a young Hobbit.

You crawled partly under your bed and pulled out the largest backpack you could find. You had never really traveled far before, let alone without knowing where you were actually going, so packing for a quick getaway made you restless.

On your desk there was a large map, and you stopped packing every now and then to inspect it and to mark roads with ink. You remembered some of the parts Merry had been focused on when you were examining the maps, and you had come to the conclusion that this was the road your friends must have taken.

Among a few warm clothes and some food you stole from the kitchen, you put the daisy brooch in your backpack too. It was now more important and sentimental to you than it had ever been before. Leaving it behind was devastating as a thought and taking it with you gave you a sense of security.

You took the dark cloak off your coat rack and took one last glance at your bedroom before sneaking out and into the corridor. There was no sound from your feet as you snuck your way into one of the rooms in Brandy Hall that had weapons in them.

You inspected a few of the rusty swords and one of them fell out of your hands with a loud clang. They all turned out to be too heavy for you to hold up properly, so you put a small knife in your pocket and took one of the beautifully detailed bows the Brandybucks had in their armory. You took a handful of arrows and a quiver for them before sneaking out of the building.

The air was crisp, and you gasped when your feet hit the cold powder on the ground. You looked down and wiggled your toes curiously. A small smile spread on your face from the excitement of seeing snow for the first time. You tiptoed at first as you were getting used to the cold feeling of snow, but eventually you were already walking fast away from Brandy Hall. Your body was filled with adrenaline and determination and the need to find Merry was driving you forward so strongly that you didn't even think about taking one of the ponies to help you with your journey. And that was your first mistake.

Merry was kicking a few rocks as he walked behind everyone else. Frodo was walking in silence, Sam was listening to Strider's stories about Elves with amazement and Pippin was stumbling on his own feet from exhaustion.

The road to Rivendell felt like it was never going to end, and every day it seemed like a new obstacle was ahead of them. Only 6 days had passed since they left Bree, but it felt like weeks. On top of the exhaustion, the thought of the Black Riders kept making everyone tremble and even Strider sometimes seemed afraid.

Pippin almost fell to the ground and Merry put his arm around him to support his walking.

"Can we take a moment to rest?" Merry asked, which Strider declined, as they were trying to get ahead as quickly as possible. Pippin let out a desperate sigh, but kept walking, Merry supporting him. "Come on, Pip. Now is not the time to nap."

"I am hungry and tired," Pippin complained.

"Me too, but we have to keep going for a little while longer," Merry said, trying to get his friend to muster up some strength. Pippin nodded and they kept walking in silence.

There were barely any sounds in the surrounding areas, and everything around them felt threatening; the Black Riders could be anywhere.

Merry was deep in his thoughts, wondering how you were doing and what you were up to. There was a frown on his face as he thought about how he had let you down. Merry had a new habit he did not know of; since he left, Merry had started to fiddle with the fabrics of his clothes when he felt anxious. It was a mannerism he had mirrored from you unintentionally. Pippin glanced at Merry, taking note of his apathetic expression and the nervous fidgeting.

"She's alright. You know that, right?" Pippin said. Merry turned his head swiftly, looking at Pippin, confused. It was like Pippin had read his mind. Pippin smiled. "I mean, she is safe. That's all that matters right now, right?"

"I can't help but feel that I completely betrayed her," Merry responded, frowning. "We all betrayed her. We left her behind."

"She's my friend and I know that she will forgive us eventually," Pippin said with a warm and clueless smile. "When we get back we will have a good laugh about it!"

Merry gave Pippin a supportive pat on his back, but he didn't have the heart to tell Pippin about his fear of not possibly returning home ever again.

"I just wish I could know for sure that she is alright," Merry said quietly. "I miss her."

"I miss her too," said Pippin, now smirking and continuing his sentence a little teasingly: "Not in the same way as you do, of course. But I do miss her."

Merry faked a small smile to Pippin and they kept walking in silence. This was the first time he had talked about you during this journey and it made his heart feel a little bit lighter. He felt more reassured by Pippin's words: of course you were alright. They all believed you were still in Buckland, after all.

Days had gone and you already had lost your way. You were always clueless with directions and reading maps, but you had no idea just how bad it was until you went after Merry. There was no more snow on the ground after a few days, your feet were throbbing from pain and your eyes were fluttering closed from exhaustion even when you were on the move.

You tried to get into the village of Bree, but the people there did not seem very happy to see a young halfling strolling around and would not let you near them. You did not know the reason, but you were not welcome. Instead of passing through Bree, exhausted and disappointed you made a right and started walking the Greenway path. It was covered in overgrown grass and other obstacles, making it very difficult to get through.

For days you walked, resting as little as you could because you were hoping to run into everyone you cared for. You were uncomfortable and desperate for a proper place to rest, but you were still determined to find Merry as fast as you could. Your feet and legs were covered in small cuts and bruises, your hair was fizzy and small twigs had gone through it when you had walked through the woods, messing it up even more.

You sat down next to a large rock and rested against its smooth surface. You closed your eyes and immediately dozed off from exhaustion. You slept for several hours, the weather getting colder and the darkness of the approaching night falling over you.

You woke up shivering. You draped your cloak around you like a blanket and stood up. You looked around you for any source of light, but it was getting pitch black and you were out of any firewood. You were in an almost completely open area, only a few trees nearby which were not suitable for starting up a fire.

"I'm gonna freeze to death!" you cried to yourself and sat back down, rubbing your arms with your hands for warmth. You rocked back and forth on the ground, your lips trembling from fear and the cold. You had a lot of energy, but walking in the darkness seemed like a terrifying thought. There was no sound, except the cold wind howling and your own distracting, dreadful thoughts.

You reached for your backpack and counted the food you had left. You did not take much food with you to begin with, and your heart sank as the realization hit you that you would run out of food in a few weeks, even if you tried to ration it and eat significantly less. Your heart began to beat faster and a panic attack was creeping up your back. Shivers went up your spine and the familiar cold sweat was nearing your neck. Your hand reached further inside the bag and you pulled out the beautiful daisy brooch. You held it against your heart, closed your eyes and exhaled slowly. You thought about Merry and his warmth, which started calming you down rather quickly. You tried to remember his scent and how it made you feel like you were at home. A single warm tear fell from your eye before you looked around you again. It was almost pitch black and you decided to take the risk and sleep through the night without any warmth.

The next day you woke up well rested when the first rays of sunlight hit your face. It felt warm and comforting, though the air was still cold and you had to stay cuddled up in your blanket for a while. The sky was light blue with no clouds in sight.

You ate only a handful of berries for breakfast before you took off, continuing the route through the overgrown grass. It took you hours before you reached any shelter again, and the sun was so high and bright you feared you might have a heat stroke. You were almost out of water, so when you found a small pond it felt like an early birthday present.

You were sweating so much you could hold nothing in your hands. You took off your cloak and sat by the water, admiring the way it sparkled under the sunlight. The jewel-like surface of the water got you thinking about Merry again. He was always determined to help you through your fears. You had a terrifying thought that if you never saw him again, you might just never get over your fear of water. Of course it was a small fear compared to the fear of never seeing Merry, Frodo, Sam or Pippin again, but at that moment it felt like a big deal, creating a sense of panic inside you. You felt helpless and shrank down a little. But something inside you snapped.

You stood up and stripped off your thin coat, brown leather corset and your light-yellow dress. The sun was warming your skin and when you closed your eyes it felt like you were back in the garden of Bag End. The sensations created by the warmth of the sun and the grass under your feet reminded you of all the times you were enjoying some tea with Frodo in the front yard, and listening to his bright and sunny laugh. He tried to teach you some Elvish from time to time, but you never learned more than a few words.

You opened your eyes and walked into the water. As the water hit your toes, you were surprised to find out that you actually felt comfortable. The pond was deep so you stayed in the shallow end at first to make sure you would not possibly faint from a panic attack and drown. Without any more thoughts or consideration you soon waded deeper into the cool water. A small sense of terror tried to force its way through your brain, but you were so determined to get over the fear that you kept going. When the water had passed your hips, you stopped and closed your eyes. You thought of the calming touch of Merry's soft hand on your shoulder, and took a few more steps deeper. The water was up to the top part of your waist. You stopped again and this time you could not go any further. It started to feel pressuring again and you feared if you took another step, you could die. Still, you let out a small, proud laugh; you could not wait until Merry and Pippin would hear about this.

And then your heart sank again from sorrow. What if you would never get to tell them?

Merry was biting his fingernail as he looked at Frodo lying in his bed. Lord Elrond had taken care of Frodo's wound the best he could, yet Merry felt like he was drowning in his own anxiety as he looked at his friend. He was bouncing his leg up and down, looking at Sam every once in a while. Sam was sleeping on a chair next to Frodo, his head laying next to his as he snored softly. Sam was holding Frodo's still cold hand, rubbing it in his sleep.

"Will he be alright?" Pippin asked Gandalf nervously. Gandalf was smoking his pipe in the corner, looking at Frodo from under his brows, analyzing his every breath.

"The wound will never fully heal," answered Gandalf, and Pippin's face dropped. "But fear not, young Peregrin. Frodo will be alright. Master Elrond knows what he is doing."

Pippin was shaking and sniffling, having cried from worry several times during that day. Merry was still looking at Frodo, biting his nail and grinding his teeth loudly.

A few hours later, Merry was still sitting in the room, looking at Frodo and bouncing his leg. This worried poor Pippin, as it seemed like his best friend had not moved even an inch for a couple of hours. He made his way to Merry and sat down next to him.

"Are you alright?" Pippin asked him. Merry did not answer and Pippin's worry grew. "Merry?"

Merry turned to look at Pippin, his blue eyes bright and full of tears.

"Frodo is hurt, Pippin. I am not alright."

"He will be alright," Pippin said, though unsure himself. "Gandalf said so. I think we should trust him."

Merry turned his gaze back to Frodo who had now moved a little, and Sam was squeezing his hand more tightly. Merry's heart felt heavy.

"What if he is not going to be alright?" said Merry, swallowing his tears. "What if..."

"What if what, Merry?"

Merry shifted in his chair, bouncing his leg again and fidgeting with the wooden pipe in his hand. His thumb was brushing across the carvings on it, and Pippin stared at him, now slightly scared. He had never seen Merry like this, and Merry was usually the one to comfort him.

"We can't fail Frodo," Merry whispered, his voice cracking ever so slightly. He was so worried about Frodo that he couldn't think straight. He wanted Frodo to be alright - and he wanted Frodo to get back home to you. "We need to get him home safely."

"We will get him home safely," said Pippin, pity in his eyes. He smiled at Merry and gave him a nudge. "You know what would make you feel better?"

"What?" said Merry with a deep sigh.

"There's a feast down the hall," whispered Pippin. Merry's eyes widened and his lips curled up into a smile. His teeth were showing and he put his hands on Pippin's shoulders, shaking them enthusiastically. Pippin giggled and the two ran down the hall where the Elves had put together an amazing meal; ale, scones, fruits and all.

You were feeling weak. The last time you had had any food was two days prior, and the only things that kept you going were your water and the thought of finding your friends and Merry. You had to rest almost every fifteen minutes as your legs were giving out. Every step you took was making your legs shake. There was nothing around you as you were crossing yet another plain, the next overgrown grass and forest not in your sight.

As the night fell, your legs were wobbling uncontrollably, and you could not feel your hands. The wind was blowing so hard that the hood of your cloak would not stay on. You coughed, and you started to feel like your temperature was rising. You weakly placed the back of your hand on your forehead and noticed that you were burning up. The surroundings were rougher than you had anticipated and your body was starting to crumble.

"Just a little more," you whispered to yourself every time you felt like you were about to pass out and collapse on the cold ground. The moon was shining brightly above you. You wanted to admire the sky, but your body was so weak that you could no longer lift your head up.

After walking slowly and unsteadily for another hour, you stumbled over your own foot and fell to the ground. Your nose hit the rough ground with a crack, and you could feel the warm blood slowly pour out of your nostrils. You had not broken it, but you had hit it so hard that the nose kept bleeding for at least fifteen more minutes. You got up eventually, your chin and neck covered in blood.

After a few more steps, you finally managed to look up at the night sky. Your vision was blurry and no matter how hard you tried, you could not focus on any of the brightly blinking stars. You were so exhausted you didn't even notice that some of the stars were getting darkened by rain clouds, and your face was so numb you did not notice the cold raindrops falling on your face.

"Just a little bit more," you muttered. The sky spun some more before everything turned white and you fell to the ground weakly, losing your consciousness.

The smell of smoke woke you up. You could feel the heat of nearby flames on your face, and for a second you wondered if you had caught on fire from your fever rising, or perhaps you had somehow flown near the sun. Your body was still feeling weak and opening your eyes felt draining.

When you opened your eyes and the blurriness slowly faded away, you saw a campfire in front of you. The flames were dancing around each other, creating shadows on the trees and lodges next to you. You followed one of the shadows with your gaze and your heart jumped to your throat when you saw a strange, raggedy man sitting across from you.

You sat up quickly, silver spots disturbing your vision and you started searching for your bow and arrows frantically.

"They're to your left," said the man in a low, monotone voice. You panicked and reached for your weapons, standing up swiftly and immediately drawing the bowstring back. Your stance was shaky, and the wooden arrow kept shifting its position in your grasp. The man was staring into the fire, not even taking a small glance at you. "You can shoot me if you want to."

You stared at him, your breath shallow and your right hand trembling as you kept holding the bow ready. With a small snapping sound, your trembling fingers accidentally let go of the arrow and string. There was a quiet woosh as the arrow traveled maybe a foot in front of you, falling to the ground with almost no noise at all. You blushed at your fumble, but tried to keep your posture and expression intimidating, even though you were overwhelmed with fear. You had no idea where you were, how you got there and who this strange man was.

"You're too weak. You still have a fever. You should eat something," he said, poking the wood and ashes with a stick, keeping the warm fire going. You could now see his face clearly.

His face was wide and slightly square, his nose was small and made his face look softer when all his other features were strikingly intimidating. There were fresh scars on his face and neck, one especially long, starting from his neck and ending by the corner of his lip. His jawline was sharp and his eyes looked dark in the night, but there was a sparkle in his eye, and you weren't sure if it was a friendly one. He looked at you as you were still standing completely still.

"What's your name?" he asked, his eye contact making your fear intensify.

"That's none of your business," you responded sharply. The man smiled and nodded, visibly amused by your attempt at intimidation. He pointed to his left, where he had a ton of freshly cooked sausages piled up.

"Eat something," he said, now seemingly more kind. You were afraid to move, but your stomach was growling and you could barely remember the taste of food.

You sprinted towards the food and grabbed a handful, shaking as you started shoving it in your mouth, not caring about what it was. It was still warm and made you feel full in no time.

You looked at the man as you devoured the food like an animal. He was still staring into the flames, clearly thinking about something very deeply.

"What's your name?" you asked in a weak, raspy voice. You cleared your throat slightly, and took another bite of sausage. The man smiled warmly, looking at you again.

"Rath," he answered. You gave him a faint nod and kept eating, now avoiding his gaze.

You ate in silence until you were so full of food you could barely stand up; though it felt better than not being able to stand up because of being malnourished.

"Where are we?" you asked Rath, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. The fabric of it was stiff and some mud from weeks ago had dried on it. You frowned. "Why am I here? How long have I been..."

"Several days," he answered, taking a bite of a sausage himself. You looked at him, curiously waiting for more details. "I found you unconscious on the ground. Very pale you looked. So pale in fact that I thought you were dead for a moment. I stopped to see if you were still breathing. You looked very weak and I could tell you were ill, so I decided to take you with me."

"Where are we?"

"A little to the right from the old South Road," he responded. His answer was not helpful to you and you weren't even sure why you asked. You knew nothing about the outside from the borders of the Shire and Buckland.

"Alright," you said quietly, pretending like his answer made sense to you. You still tried to picture the map in your head; the one you had examined before you left, but you had already forgotten everything about it.

Rath turned back to look at the flames that were now almost dying down. He stood up, which made you flinch. He did not seem to care. Instead Rath picked up a stick again and started poking the campfire, restoring the flames again.

"Do you feel better?" he asked, sitting back down, still at a distance from you. You gave him a careful nod and lifted your knees up, resting your chin on them. Rath looked at you from head to toe, analyzing you. It made you feel uncomfortable and vulnerable, so you wrapped your cloak around you tighter. "So, what are you?"

"What?" you asked, puzzled. Rath chuckled.

"Exactly what I said. What are you? You are clearly not a human and I have never seen a creature like you before."

"Creature?" you said, slightly offended. "I'm a Hobbit, a halfling, thank you very much."

"I see," he responded with a smile and let out a small, warm laugh. "I have heard of your people but never have seen any in the wild. I thought it was just a tale. Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?"

You stayed quiet. You did not trust this man yet despite his warm approach. Yes, his looks could be deceiving and you never judged a book by its cover, but he had just somehow moved your unconscious body somewhere unknown in the wilderness, and that felt more than odd to you.

"My name is none of your business," you said firmly, staring at him as coldly as you could.

"I understand," he said. He moved a little, carefully trying to hand over the bottle in his hand. "Do you want some water? You look dehydrated."

Without a second thought you grabbed the leather bottle from his hand and poured the cold water down your dry throat. The water felt refreshing. It was like for a second your worries washed away, and you felt tears rise to your eyes. As you started to feel the effects of the water, you also started to realize just how close to death you had been; and that this kind stranger had been taking care of you for days. The water cleansed your untrusty heart, and you smiled at Rath. He smiled back, and let you empty his water bottle.

"Thank you," you said quietly. You were feeling slightly flustered and ashamed by your state and seemingly endless thirst and hunger, but Rath did not seem to mind.

"I will go look for some more water," he said, standing up slowly. "You should sleep. You need a proper rest."

And so he left you alone and walked into the dark of the night. The fire was bright but its light did not reach very far, and suddenly the surroundings started to make you feel nervous again. You tapped the ground with your foot repeatedly, while looking around the campsite frantically. There were no sounds and no one to be seen.

You thought about Rath and the kindness in him. He was a stranger but when he had found you, an unconscious little halfling on the brink of her death, he took you with him and provided you with proper care. You felt slightly better when you woke up, so you figured he must have given you some medicine while you were out cold. You took a deep breath and decided to put your trust in this stranger for the time being, as he knew where you were and you barely were even able to stand. With another deep breath you lowered yourself fully on the ground and closed your eyes, immediately drifting off to a peaceful slumber.

Merry sat there, his back against the strong white pillar. He was gazing at the sky, the calm and ethereal sounds of Rivendell creating a peaceful atmosphere. And yet, his heart was feeling empty. In his hands he was holding the note you had written for him. It was slightly crinkled from being buried at the bottom of his bag. His fingers were brushing against the edges of the paper, his pointer finger tracing the lines of the heart on it.

"Merry?" said Pippin. Merry slowly and weakly turned his face towards Pippin. His expression was one of sadness, and his eyes reflected the empty feeling in his heart. Pippin frowned at the sight and sat next to his best friend. He listened to Merry's deep breaths for a moment before speaking up again. "She'll forgive you."

Merry looked down at his hands and straightened the note. His eyes fixated on the heart and he was almost expressionless in his state of shame and longing.

"I hope so," Merry said quietly. Pippin had not seen the note before, so he was eyeing it curiously.

"Did she write that?" Pippin asked.

"A while ago," Merry sighed, his thumb brushing across the heart. "Around the time I realized--'' Merry continued, immediately going quiet again, his hands twitching and wrinkling the paper more.

"Did she already know then?" Pippin asked with a confused smile. "I thought it took you a long time to tell her."

"She didn't know yet," Merry said with a sad chuckle. "She always did stuff like this. And so did I. This is just how our friendship worked."

"Works," corrected Pippin with confidence. Merry bit his lip anxiously. Pippin gave Merry a pat on his shoulder. "You're gonna see her again. We all are. We are going to go home."

"It seems like we are going to go home," Merry said and pouted. "Lord Elrond doesn't seem too keen on letting us go with Frodo and Sam."

"We will change his mind," Pippin said and smiled enthusiastically. "And we will destroy the Ring with Frodo, and then we will go back home."

Merry smiled, but knew Pippin was too positive for his own good. This journey was going to be far more dangerous than he had anticipated, and despite wanting to follow Frodo, a part of him was wishing he was holding you in his arms in the safety of Brandy Hall instead.

Chapter Text

The ground felt colder than it did weeks before and the rain had completely drenched both you and Rath when you settled down for camp. Rath found a spot barely touched by the rain. Scattered by the bases of the large oaks were some pieces of dry wood and Rath saw it as a chance to start a campfire. You were sitting on the ground shivering when the fire finally lit up.

“Do you have a change of clothes?” he asked, looking at you. You were trembling and sniffling, arms crossed and face pale. You shook your head. The chill of the approaching winter had forced you to wear all of the clothes you had brought at once to provide some warmth. Rath smiled warmly and dug into his bag. He pulled out a long and thick tunic and a dry blanket for you to wrap yourself in.

“Thank you,” you said in a shaky voice and took the tunic in your own hands. The fabric of it reminded you of the wool back at home that you used to shear from the sheep. You pouted a little before taking off the wet cloak from around you and spreading it wide near the fire to dry it off. Rath seemed to notice the look of sadness on your face, but he said nothing.

You turned around and pulled off your drenched sweater and the dress underneath it that was dripping water. You pulled on the tunic and wrapped the blanket around you, plopping down on the ground as close to the fire as you could.

“Let’s wait the rain out and stay here for the night,” Rath said and you nodded, your lips trembling. Weeks had passed since the two of you met and you had grown to trust his guidance when it came down to surviving.

Rath sat down across from you, the golden hue of the fire and its shadows dancing on his face. You stared at the scars on him, curious to ask about the source of them which you had not dared to mention yet. In fact, you had been almost entirely mute; only answering in just a few words because you did not have the strength to do anything but follow him down the road and through the woods. Now that you had some proper nutrition in your system, you finally started to speak more and open up a little.

“Where did you get that?” you asked, gesturing towards the large scar traveling across his neck to his mouth. Rath smiled and brushed his hand softly across the rough edge of the wound.

“From a battle. It was a long time ago.”

“What happened?” you asked, tilting your head as you looked at him, eager to find out more.

“Where I lived, me and my family never had much wealth. A war came upon us and I had to defend our home and honor. That’s what happened, in a few words,” he responded, smiling softly. “I had to do many things to provide for my parents and sister.”

“What kind of things, pardon me for asking?”

Rath took a moment to respond. He seemed to think about his words carefully, his face thoughtful and dark.

“Things that were less good, so to speak. When you don’t have much, you do what you can to provide.”

You nodded, not entirely understanding the weight of his words. You had always lived comfortably in the Shire. Uncle Bilbo was rather wealthy and when you stayed with Frodo, you always had food and shelter. Even when you moved to Buckland, there were never days where you even felt the need to fall into desperation regarding the ordinary things.

“I’m sorry, Rath,” you responded. He smiled but said nothing. “Do you want to tell me more about your family?”

And so Rath talked to you for a long time, both of you getting dry and warm by the campfire and giggling at the funny stories he told about his childhood, and the pranks he and his little sister used to play on each other.

His father had died when he was young, though he did not specify the reason. He told you that his mother fell into a state of deep sadness after the passing of her beloved husband, so Rath had taken a role as the main caregiver and provider of the family. He did not tell where he had lived, but described his home as a small hut and around it open country, where he had to travel far and wide to find any food for his sister and mother.

He did not share the specifics of the things he had done, but from the phrasing he used it was easy to deduce that he must have at least been a thief to provide for his own. Despite not fully understanding, your heart broke a little as he explained his desperation.

He shared one specific heartwarming memory of him and his sister playing near a small lake a distance from their home. The sky had been clear and no clouds were in sight, when they ran to the water and he taught her how to swim. You thought of Merry. Rath seemed to notice the sorrow and worry behind your eyes and under your wary exterior.

“Are you alright?” he asked, leaning over a little, the crackling of the fire being the only sound for a minute before you answered.

“Your story just reminded me of someone.”

Rath looked at you curiously. His eyes were gleaming in the darkness, his posture relaxed and his lips curling up to a gentle smile.

“Do you want to tell me more?”

You were hesitant. You had been missing Merry for a long time. You just wanted to talk to him; or at least talk to someone about him.

“Yes,” you responded and Rath positioned himself more comfortably, almost like he was a child preparing for a bedtime story. “My parents died when I was just a young halfling. I barely remember them, which has always brought me great sorrow.. Ever since then I have been dreading water. My… friend, helped me greatly to partly overcome this fear. He has always been there for me and I just wish he was here.”

“Where is he?”

Your frown deepened. You had no clue where Merry was. You had been looking for him for a while before your body had given up and now you had no idea of your own whereabouts either.

“I wish I knew,” you responded. The daisy brooch you had in your hands felt cold to your touch but it provided you with some emotional warmth. Rath observed your fidgeting fingers and he stood up before sitting next to you on the ground.

“Can I see that?” he asked, eyeing the flowery brooch. With a careful nod you handed it over to Rath. He seemed surprised at the weight of the mostly golden brooch and he studied it heavily. Soon he gave it back to you. “This is very valuable. Don't lose it. “

“I don't plan to.”

“Did your friend give it to you?”

“He did. It was a birthday present. I don't know what I would do if I lost it. It would break my heart. It's too important to me.”

Maybe to anyone else but you it seemed like you were getting shaky about losing a brooch that was so valuable, but the truth is that you were talking about Merry more than some piece of jewelry. He was too important and you could not bear the idea of losing him.

“Is that why you're out here? In the wild? Are you looking for your friend?”

You did not respond immediately. You wanted to pour your heart out but like a sudden jolt of lightning in your body, you felt the need to lie. You felt the need to twist the truth.

“Partly. He went traveling but I don't know where. I need to deliver something to him.”

Rath nodded and looked at the brooch again. He shuffled closer to you and your sides were now touching. He put his arm around you and with a gentle squeeze he gave you comfort.

“You're going to be alright,” Rath said warmly. “You'll do this task for your friend. I can help you with it. You can trust me.”

Your tired feet and body went almost limp in his arms as the exhaustion took over you. Your eyes kept fluttering shut and the warmth of his body kept you feeling relatively safe.

“I need help getting where I need to go,” you muttered, eyes closed and head on his lap. “I can't find my way alone.”

“It's alright. I'll help you, “ he said quietly as you drifted off to sleep. Rath sighed as he watched you sleep in his arms. “Get some sleep. I need help from you too,” he continued, but you were already holding Merry's hand in your dreams.

The weather got severely colder the following weeks. By your estimate you were well into November, but neither of you knew for sure.

Your trust in each other had grown; so much that you had finally told him your name. You did not tell him much about your friends or Merry, but you did share about what your life had been like before.

“Your home sounds like an interesting place to live, indeed,” said Rath as the two of you were walking among the lengthy green grass, trying to make your way back to the main road. The Old South Road was overgrown and hard to go through too, but it surely would be easier for the both of you. “Ready?” asked Rath and he squatted down. You two had made a habit out of you riding on his back through the roughest paths since it made traveling easier on your weary feet.

“Are you sure you can make it up here?” you asked as you hopped on his back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. In front of you was a large hill covered with rough rocks, and it was the last large obstacle before you would be back on the road.

“Just hold on tight little halfling,” he chuckled and started climbing up. His breathing grew heavier with every step, but soon enough both of your feet were steadily on the ground.

There were trees so overgrown and bent by the storms that they made an arch over you, making the road as long as your eyes could see look like a dark green tunnel, where barely any light could shine through.

“Which way are we going?” you asked and Rath looked down at you with utmost amusement.

“Your sense of direction really is awful, isn't it?” he laughed and started walking to the right. He was tall and broad, and his large and fast steps truly showed that, for you could barely keep up.

“Please! I have such little legs, I can't keep up.”

A loud laugh erupted from Rath and he stopped in his tracks, his dark eyes glowing with amusement as he observed your quick steps trying to catch up with him.

“I'm sorry, little one. I sometimes forget how tiny you truly are. But we have to be swift to get you the help you need. I don't have all the answers.”

“Then where are we going? Where do we get these answers? Is it much further?” you asked, questions flowing out of your mouth like a river.

“One question at a time, Baggins!” Rath laughed. He rarely used your name, but he had grown quite fond of using your last name to refer to you - though you preferred the nickname ‘little one.’ It made you feel protected somehow.

“Well, alright then! Where are we going?”

“Only forward from here. We have several more weeks ahead of us - if not over a month, but we should get there soon enough - if I still know the way.”

“Get where?”

“Isengard. It's a beautiful garden and in the middle of it is a large and mighty black tower. It is said it's the residence of a great White Wizard.”

You stopped walking. Your heart skipped a beat and soon hope started flowing in your body, your spirit started heightening and a smile grew on your face. If anyone was able to help with finding Merry, Frodo, Pippin and Sam, it would have to be a great Wizard.

“Are you serious?” you asked hopefully, though a little scared that Rath was joking.

“Yes. He is said to be one of the wisest beings in all of Middle-Earth. I trust his judgment. So that is where we are headed.”

“Do you think he can help me?” you asked, rubbing your thumbs against each other nervously.

“I know he can. Come on,” he responded, gesturing to you to walk next to him.

The road ahead was going to be long, exhausting and dangerous, but the thought of finally being able to have some direction and wisdom gave you hope and strength.

Merry was examining the maps over and over again. They were to leave Rivendell in the morning and despite Gandalf being their guide, he wanted to be aware of where they were traveling and what lay ahead.

“You should be reading more, Pippin,” he said to the young Took, who was resting peacefully against a pile of pillows next to him, eyes closed and a smile on his face.

“We are leaving tomorrow. I need to sleep. Who knows how long we have to stay up with all the thinking Gandalf and Frodo keep doing!” Pippin responded with a big yawn.

Merry shook his head and continued studying the maps. He felt his eyelids getting heavier, but he was determined to learn as much as possible; just in case some of the information would turn out to be helpful. But it did not take him long to fall asleep for a moment and his head hit the table with a loud bang. It woke Pippin up and he stood up, shook Merry’s shoulders and they both left the room to go find a more appropriate place to sleep.

When Pippin complained about his tired feet again, Merry felt like he was about to snap. They had not been traveling for even a day since they left Rivendell, and his complaining was getting on Merry’s nerves. Of course he felt tired too, but the Fellowship could travel much faster if it wasn’t for the constant need for breaks. Besides; it was tiring to hear Gandalf lecture him and Pippin. Gandalf kept talking to them in what Merry would later describe as playful riddles, and all of it went over Pippin’s head; and some over Merry’s too.

“Can we please-” started Pippin, and Merry put his hand on Pippin’s mouth.

“You can have some of my pipe-weed if you just keep quiet for the next hour, Pip.”

A wide smile spread on Pippin’s face. Merry sighed and dug into his satchel. He took out a small leather pouch and handed it over to Pippin, who had already taken out his pipe. Merry exhaled from relief when Pippin started focusing on the smoking for a while and he finally could think in peace.

“What’s on your mind, Merry?” asked a voice suddenly, bursting Merry out of his thoughts. Aragorn had noticed Merry started to fall behind because he was so deep in his own thoughts, that his legs barely moved anymore. Merry blinked a few times, trying to settle back into the moment.

“Nothing special,” he responded to Aragorn with a faint half-smile. The grey surroundings were making Merry gloomy and his thoughts had traveled back to the moment he left you behind.

“Frodo told me he has been worried about you,” said Aragorn. Merry furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Why would he be worried about me? If anything, we should be more worried about him.”

Aragorn explained to him how Frodo had talked to some of them about how absent-minded Merry had seemed for a while and how it made him anxious. Frodo had started to feel worried and wondered if he should have asked Elrond to send him back to Buckland; back to you. In exchange, this made Merry’s anxiety grow.

“You should talk to him,” said Aragorn. Merry nodded and made his way to Frodo, who was way in the front of the group, talking to a very happy-spirited Boromir.

“Excuse me,” said Merry and walked between Boromir and Frodo. They both looked at him puzzled. “I need to talk to Frodo.”

“Can it wait for a moment, Merry?” Frodo responded.

“No, it can’t,” said Merry, surprising Frodo and making Boromir’s face light up with curiosity. He kept walking between them, ignoring the fact that Boromir was listening to him open up to Frodo. “I need you to know that I am here because I want to be. Aragorn told me of your worry. I would follow and defend you to my demise, Frodo. We all would. I truly feel like I’m supposed to be here for now. I am alright.”

“You don’t seem alright, Merry,” said Frodo, softly brushing his hand on Merry’s back to provide him with some comfort and reassurance. He analyzed Merry’s face for a moment before continuing. “Do you want to talk about her?”

Merry glanced at Boromir, wondering if he would dare to speak of you and his feelings in front of this person he still barely knew.

“Who is this maiden we speak of?” asked Boromir in a slightly teasing and knowing tone, but in such a way that Merry could tell that he would be able to trust him. “Someone important?”

“Someone incredibly important.”

“Are you sure about this?” you asked Rath in whisper. His fist was clutching to his sword so tightly you were worried his bones might crack out of his skin. With a roar Rath charged and you duck down behind a large bush, closing your eyes tightly. You were trembling as you heard the loud screams of the orc and the swords clashing together. You had not run into orcs so far and hearing one had made your blood cold. Tens of terrifying thoughts went through your head when Rath stopped you to let you know there was an orc ahead. You wanted to take a peek, but your body was frozen still as you were paralyzed with fear. If Rath was to lose, you would be either killed or left alone; and you were not sure which one was the worst option. Soon there was a loud thump and Rath came out unharmed.

“It has been dealt with,” he said. You were still paralyzed from fear. Rath sighed and sat next to your trembling body and pulled you in for an embrace. “You’re safe. Don’t worry. We might run into more orcs in these areas but you have nothing to fear, alright?”

You slowly opened your eyes and squeezed his hand tightly. With a trusting nod you stood up and tightened the ribbon in your hair.

“Let’s go,” you said with determination and started walking towards where Rath had slain the orc.

There the orc was, laying on the ground, lifeless. Its skin was clumpy and grey, the armor thick and strong. Your eyes widened as you noticed Rath had beheaded the monster, for his sword was not able to pierce the armor. You sat down on your knees next to the orc and just stared at it quietly. The blood that was spilt was almost deeply black and the smell was horrendous, but a small part of you felt sad; why was the world outside the Shire so cruel?

Rath pulled you up by your armpits and the two of you kept walking in silence. You clung to his arm at every little crack of a branch and at every hoot of an owl. Even during daytime it seemed to be dark and the atmosphere grew threatening the closer you got to your destination.

Every passing day your trust in Rath grew and his already warm exterior seemed to soften up even more. The two of you had very similar personalities and he started to slowly trust you enough to teach you how to use your bow and arrow more efficiently.

On one particularly sunny day the two of you climbed underneath a gap between two large rocks. It was the only place near that provided any shadow from the burning sun. The air was cold but the headache the sun gave both of you was not worth the trouble. You were asleep for several hours there as Rath had deemed it safer to travel during the night. He sharpened his knives in the shelter and watched your surroundings, making sure nothing could touch you. He had become very protective of you; of course he had been that since the moment he saw you passed out on the ground, but as more time passed by, the more he started to notice how much you reminded him of his little sister.

He gave you a nudge as the sun started going down. You lifted your head up and stretched your arms.

“Is there any way I could sleep just a little bit longer?” you asked. Rath shook his head with a small chuckle and helped you up.

You crawled out and stretched your legs. You only took one step, when there was a loud crack and pop from your right ankle. You collapsed on the ground with a loud cry. Rath rushed to your side and put his arms around you.

“Are you alright?” he asked with worry.

“No! My ankle hurts,” you pouted.

“Can you stand up?” he asked, lifting you by your sides. You stood up on your left leg but when you tried to put weight on your right, you collapsed with a cry. Rath kneeled down next to you, his arms still on you. “It’s alright.”

“It hurts so much,” you sobbed. Tears were falling from your eyes from the severity of the pain on your ankle. It felt like several knives struck through it as you took the faulty step. Rath carefully examined your ankle, a few of the touches making you hiss and whimper.

“I don’t believe it’s broken,” he said, now digging in his bag. “I think you stepped wrong. It might take a few days to heal.”

“A few days?” you said, wiping your tears away as they were flowing. “We can’t stay here for that long!”

Rath took out a cloth from his bag and wrapped it around your ankle in a way that kept it still and so that it supported it as much as possible.

“This should do for now,” he said and lifted you up. You were balancing on one foot as he held you still. With a swift move he lifted you up. “I can carry you on my back for as long as needed, alright?”

You nodded and soon you were riding on his back for hours and hours, amazed by his strength and willpower to get the both of you forward.

When the morning came, he finally stopped. You had fallen asleep on his back and for a good few hours you slept. He woke you up and put you down carefully. He had walked a little way off the road to a well sheltered part of woods so he could get some rest as well.

“Now, do not fear. We are in a well sheltered place but-”

“But what?” you asked.

“I need you to keep watch. Even though you are very little, it is tiring to carry a halfling for a whole night. I need to rest.”

This thought terrified you. You knew he needed a proper rest but you had never had to keep watch for more than an hour or two. This time Rath handed you a weapon; your bow and arrow and told you that you were to kill anyone that tried to come through. He tried to tell you that since it was morning no one would come, but fear was still trying to take over you.

“I can’t.”

“You can. You have to,” he said and brushed his thumb on the back of your palm softly. “Just sit here and if there’s movement; fire the arrow.”

“I can’t walk.”

“That is why I told you to sit here. If we want to find your friend, I need to rest so we can make it to Isengard as soon as possible.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. Rath had protected you for so long and it was now your turn to protect him.

“You are a dear friend, Rath,” you said and smiled warmly, fear still lingering in your eyes. “I will do my best. Sleep as long as you need.”

“Alert me if you need help, but I trust you. You can do this on your own. Besides; I’m sure there is no need to worry.”

And with that, he drifted off to sleep. You took a deep breath and crawled your way to the rock next to you. It was half your size so it was a good spot to keep watch. The sun was starting to come up, but the day was cloudy and the darkness over Middle-Earth had grown deeper.

Two hours went by without any other noise than a squirrel who curiously sniffed the hair of the sleeping Rath. You took a look at your friend, so peacefully sleeping and thought about your luck; without him you would have perished on this journey. What if you had injured your ankle while you were alone? Just losing consciousness for days was dreadful, but at least you could walk when you woke up. You would have been a lost cause without him.

There was a small puff of wind that got your attention to drift towards your left. It suddenly seemed like something was lurking behind the trees. It was like a dark presence was approaching. Fear took over your heart and you froze still. You stared into the woods and nothing seemed to come out. But soon there were heavy steps coming towards your direction. You started trembling and for a moment you could still not move.

As the footsteps approached, you finally lifted your bow and put your shaky fingers on the string of the bow, arrow in your hand, ready to draw it back and fire. The footsteps got louder and your grip on the bow tightened, and you set the arrow on the string. And then there was silence.

You stared at the dark gap between the trees. The ominous atmosphere started filling you with dread. Why were there no sounds anymore? Was there something lurking? Was something about to kill you and your friend? Had you imagined it?

With a loud roar an armored, large orc charged towards you and you drew back the bowstring and fired the arrow with a loud snap. The arrow flew through the air and to your surprisement and luck; it pierced the neck of the approaching orc. The arrow sunk into his deformed skin and the sound of the flesh being pierced made you shiver. With a loud crash the orc fell to the ground, dark blood pumping out of the wound in his neck. You stared at it, eyes wide. You had no time to internalize the reality of what had happened, when three other orcs cried in a foreign language and charged towards you.

“Rath!” you screamed and he sprung up, and in seconds his sword was already in his hand and he was running towards the orcs. One orc dodged his strike swiftly and instead jumped on top of you. Behind him Rath was still battling another, smaller orc. The heaviness of the orc almost suffocated you as it pounced on you and placed its dry lumpy hand on the handle of its knife. You were kicking him to your best ability, but he was at least ten times stronger than you. “Rath!” you screamed again, desperate to be saved as you knew you had no chance against this vile creature. The orc lifted its knife and you screamed in horror. With a loud cry Rath ran to you and his sword penetrated through the armor of the orc, making him fall on top of you, air forcefully pushed out of your body. Rath rolled the orc off of you with his foot, and in a second he turned around and beheaded the orc that was charging at him from behind. The third orc he had already slain, and it was dead on the ground a few feet away.

Rath called your name for a moment and sat you up on the ground. The top of your shirt was covered in splashes of orc blood, and you were panting in shock. Everything around you seemed blurry and the ringing in your ears would not stop. All you could hear properly was the fast beating of your own terrified heart. Rath’s hand was on your chin as he turned your head to look at him in his eyes. You could see his mouth move, but you did not hear him. Your gaze drifted to the disfigured body of an orc behind Rath, and he moved your gaze back immediately, forcing you to look him in the eyes. Soon the muffled words started to make sense again and the ringing in your ears stopped.

“Look at me. You’re alright.”

You nodded, eyes still wide and tears on your cheeks you had not noticed had fallen. Rath wiped them off gently and took your face in his hands.

“I-” you mumbled, lip quivering.

“You did well,” he said with a soft, concerned smile. “You are alright. You are not hurt. I am not hurt. You did well.”

“I killed someone,” you whispered in a guilty tone.

“You did what you had to do. You did well,” he repeated.

Your gaze kept drifting to the corpses but Rath kept pulling your focus back to him and his calming voice.

It took you a while to calm down. Rath dragged some of the dead orcs out of your sight so you would not start panicking again. He feared you were starting to be overwhelmed with guilt by killing something, so he kept reassuring you of how well you had protected you both; how you had saved him.

When you finally took one last deep breath before completely relaxing, you caught yourself reaching behind your ear. Not finding anything there confused you; and trying to find something suddenly there confused you even more; why did you think there was something behind your pointy ear overall?

And then you thought of the time you panicked and Merry snuck a daisy behind your ear. The gesture had warmed up your heart to him even more, and Rath’s calming techniques reminded you of him. And you started missing him terribly. Without even a chance to prevent it, you started crying uncontrollably. Rath took your hand and held it tightly as you cried. He assumed your painful cries were still caused by the attack of the orcs, but all of your tears were reserved for Merry. You wanted nothing more than to be in his arms. And no matter how well Rath had calmed you down; you needed it to be Merry. You needed to get to him.

You laid there quietly, wrapped in a blanket when you finally spoke.

“I need to find him,” you said quietly. Rath turned to look at you.

“We will find him,” he said.

“No. I need to find him faster. I can’t do this much longer.”

“We will move faster, starting tomorrow. I will make sure you find your friend.”

A lonely tear fell on your face again and you shut your eyes. All you wanted to do was sleep until Merry was near you again. Seeing the growing number of orcs had lit a new fear in your heart; what if Merry was dead?

“What if we don’t find him? What if the Wizard can’t help us?” you said quietly; partly asking Rath, partly yourself.

“He can help us. I’m sure of it,” he said and you could hear him crunching on a dried piece of bread. The amount of food you had was growing smaller and smaller. You feared you would run out because Rath would have to keep carrying you around for at least a day or two more, for your ankle was still in too much pain.

“I hope so,” you responded and opened your eyes. Rath was sitting near you, changing his clothes into something warmer in the dark. You noticed he was wearing a piece of chained armor underneath his clothes. He had not mentioned it before, but you had been wondering what kind of stiff clothing he was wearing underneath it all, as you had felt it when you were riding on his back. On it was a strange mark, which you curiously observed from afar in silence. It was a large white palm made with paint, covering almost the whole chest part of the chain mail. You were curious about it, so you decided to ask Rath what it was. “What is that?”

“It’s nothing,” he responded and gave you a faint smile, pulling a warm sweater on top of it, hiding the mark and chainmail. “It’s just to keep me safe while I take care of your safety. The mark is nothing you need to worry about, I promise.”

“Are we far?” you asked him.

“No, we are getting close. There’s only a day or two ahead of us. We will find your friend.”

“I trust you,” you smiled and he smiled back warmly.

Chapter Text

Merry yawned softly. The stars were almost completely hidden by the veil of clouds and the moon was barely visible. Merry turned on his side and shut his eyes for a few more minutes, desperate for some proper rest.

Despite Merry’s attempts he could not fall asleep, so he got up, rubbed his eyes gently with his fists and looked around to see if anyone but Aragorn was awake.

Pippin was sleeping peacefully next to him, Legolas and Gandalf were nowhere in sight, Boromir was fast asleep and Gimli was snoring so loudly that Merry was surprised no one had woken up because of it yet. Aragorn was sitting on a large rock smoking his pipe and Bill the Pony was eating grass next to a sound asleep Sam, who Merry was surprised to see was not with Frodo. Merry noticed all of Frodo’s things abandoned on the ground next to Sam. He decided it was best to find out his friend’s whereabouts.

He did not have to look far. Frodo was sitting on the cool ground staring at the night sky, his spirit gloomy.

“Why are you awake?” Merry asked, startling Frodo.

“Merry! I thought everyone would be asleep by now,” cried Frodo.

“No. I can't seem to sleep,” said Merry, sitting down next to Frodo. It was deeply dark all around them and the only sound they could hear was Gimli's snoring. “Do you know where Gandalf and Legolas have gone? I did not see them anywhere.”

“I do not know,” Frodo responded, shrugging his shoulders. “Truth be told, I did not know they were gone. I thought at least Gandalf would be sound asleep. Legolas maybe too.”

“Huh. Do elves even sleep?” Merry wondered out loud. Frodo chuckled softly.

The two sat in silence for a while. Small gusts of December wind made them shiver every now and then, but otherwise the night was not too cold. The stars had now completely veiled and Gimli had stopped snoring. It was dead quiet.

“I can't help but feel guilty,” said Frodo suddenly. Merry stared at him with pity.

“We are here because we want to,” said Merry, but Frodo shook his head dismissively.

“I'm talking about leaving my sister behind,” Frodo corrected and Merry's heart broke a little. “She means the world to me and I left her. I miss her terribly. I don't suppose I'll ever see her again.”

“Frodo…”

“I do wish she was here,” Frodo continued with a sigh. “Not among the horrible dangers we are surrounded with of course, but just with us.”

Merry stayed quiet. Of course he felt that way too, but so far Frodo had not talked about his feelings or concerns about you during the journey, so he wanted to give him more space to talk about you. After Frodo said nothing for a long time, Merry dared to speak.

“I know what you mean. She would have loved Rivendell,” said Merry and a wide smile appeared on Frodo's face.

“She really would have. I tried teaching her Elvish several times, but she never quite got the hang of it. She was very fond of the Elves, though. I caught her and Sam chatting about them several times while he was gardening.”

Merry smiled. He felt slightly better when he was thinking about you back before all of the chaos had fallen on all of you.

“Imagine how much she would have loved all of those fresh fruits they provided to us!” Merry said, chuckling softly.

“She wouldn't have left any for us,” joked Frodo and both of them laughed whole-heartedly.

“Mister Frodo, what are you doing up?” said Sam, who had made his way to the two Hobbits without them noticing.

“Nothing to worry about, Sam,” Frodo responded. “You should go back to sleep. I have Merry here with me.”

“But Mister Frodo…”

“It's alright, Sam,” Frodo said and smiled warmly. “You need to rest.”

Sam blushed and nodded. Feeling a little defeated he walked back to his spot and crawled under the covers, but still stayed awake for a while, keeping an eye on Frodo.

Merry and Frodo talked for an hour more, before both of them finally felt tired enough to go and get some sleep; but also because Gimli, not so politely, told them to be quiet.

They did not get to sleep for long, as the sun slowly rose behind the thick mist, shining light in their eyes. The first rays of morning sun looked almost ethereal, pieces of it sneaking through the clouds.

“Gentlemen, it is time to continue with our journey,” announced Aragorn. Pippin groaned and pulled his blanket over his head. Merry walked to Pippin and pulled his blanket off, making him grunt again, his expression very displeased.

“Get up,” said Merry while softly kicking Pippin's side.

“Do I have to?” cried Pippin, covering his eyes with his arms.

“Come on,” said Frodo, a hint of amusement in his voice and he lifted Pippin up with Merry.

There were nothing but large, threatening yet beautiful mountains to their left, and in all other directions all was plain and dead. Merry's feet felt tired. It had been a long and cold walk. The wind was blowing through the snowy tips of the Misty Mountains and all four Hobbits were trembling. The sun was not high enough yet to provide enough warmth. Legolas on the other hand walked gleefully around, keeping watch on their surroundings and wandering off to admire the sky and sun every now and then.

When they finally stopped for a small break, Merry lowered himself down on the ground on his back. His exhaustion was getting the best of him and even though he was ravenous, the cool ground and getting some rest felt more inviting than any piece of bread or drop of water.

Merry closed his eyes for a bit, putting his arms over his eyes to protect them from the bright sunlight.

“You should eat, Merry,” noted Boromir and Merry quietly waved it off.

After some time of shivering on the ground Merry decided to get up and have a bite. He sat up and noticed that everyone in the group was focused on listening to Aragorn’s stories except Frodo, who was sitting a short distance from them, holding something in his hands. Merry began walking up to Frodo and to his amazement, he noticed that there was a small flower in his friend's hands. Frodo noticed Merry approaching and smiled faintly.

“I found it just a moment ago,” he said to Merry. “It had pushed through the gravel.”

It would have been a signal of hope, had it not been wilted. It was a dead daisy, its appearance piercing through Merry's heart; to him it felt like a bad omen. His heart was telling him that you were not safe. Frodo handed over the flower to Merry, who looked at it with concern, his whole body tensing up.

“Frodo?” said Merry quietly.

“Yes, Merry?” responded Frodo, slightly concerned by Merry’s tense exterior.

“I can’t help but feel uneasy. I feel like something is wrong,” Merry said anxiously.

“What do you mean?” Frodo asked.

“Do you think she has left the Shire?” Merry said, twirling the dead daisy by its stem. He tended to fidget with anything he could hold in his hands when he was missing you. Merry sighed, his breath shaky. He continued: “That she decided to go after us?”

Frodo’s heart sank for a moment, but then he gave Merry a gentle smile, softly squeezing his shoulder.

“She wouldn’t,” he responded, knowing deep down that he was lying to both himself and Merry.

“Do we know for sure?” said Merry, his eyes full of sadness and increasing fear. Frodo looked at him and then at the flower. In his heart he knew it was very much possible that you were in danger, hurt or worse; and both of them knew you were more than likely to have followed them.

Throughout the day Frodo's anxiety grew, which Gandalf took note of rather quickly.

“What's on your mind, Frodo?” Gandalf asked as the night fell on them. Frodo was wide awake, while everyone else was sound asleep around them; except Boromir, who was on watch that night.

“My sister, Gandalf. I worry she might have left the Shire,” Frodo responded. Gandalf tilted his head, looking at him with a curious expression.

“What makes you think this way?” Gandalf asked.

“It's a feeling. A sense of dread and almost a suffocating worry.”

“My dear Frodo,” said Gandalf in a comforting tone. “You need not to worry about what you can't control. Even if your sister has left the Shire, I am sure she is safe and sound.”

“She has absolutely no sense of direction, Gandalf,” Frodo said, covering his face with his palm. Gandalf tried to hide his amusement at the thought of you wandering around the Shire and near its borders cluelessly. “She probably has left the Shire and walked straight into the hands of orcs.”

“That is very unlikely, Frodo,” said Gandalf. “You need to stop letting your mind spiral and focus on what is in your hands; what you can control.”

Frodo sighed. He knew Gandalf was right. He had no way of knowing if you were alright or not. He couldn't possibly know if you had even stepped outside of your room for months.

“You're right, Gandalf. All of my thoughts just feel… heavy.”

Gandalf gave Frodo a warm smile, but his eyes were troubled.

“You are carrying a heavy burden, Frodo,” said Gandalf, looking at Frodo's chest around the area where the Ring was resting. “Do not take on more burden and worry than you already are carrying.”

Frodo gave him a faint nod. Gandalf reached for the wooden and curiously carved pipe on his belt. He offered Frodo some Old Toby as well, but after he refused, Gandalf settled on smoking the pipe-weed alone as Frodo sat next to him, his heart still heavy.

Merry had Pippin around his arm. They lockstepped forward cheerfully as the rest of the Fellowship were almost left behind. The temperature finally felt more comfortable than it had for weeks and that gave the young halflings a boost of energy that was quite irritating for almost everyone else around them. The two did not mind being a possible disturbance and they kept singing songs whilst hopping forward cheerfully, and they laughed so loudly it echoed all around them. Boromir looked at Merry and Pippin and he smiled wide, his teeth showing. Boromir had gotten to know both of them quite well and every passing moment he grew more fond of them. He slowly adapted an almost big brother-like role in the lives of Merry and Pippin, which gave them both a sense of stability and security.

“How are you feeling?” Boromir asked Merry as they sat down for a little bit of rest along with everyone else. Merry was in the middle of biting into his apple, the juice of the fruit now lingering on his lips as he stared at Boromir, surprised by his question.

“I’m alright,” he responded. As he looked at the sturdy warrior beside him, he noticed some darkness in his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

Boromir looked down at his hands. He was softly brushing his thumb on the horn that was hanging near his waist. His mind was elsewhere; the Ring was tempting him and he needed a distraction.

“Truth be told, I have been worried about you, Merry,” said Boromir, his gaze soft and eyes locked on Merry. Merry turned his face away. He knew what Boromir was about to ask and his heart began to hurt. He had gone most of the day finally thinking about something other than his worry for you and he craved more time to distract himself from reality.

“I am alright,” Merry said, eyes on the ground and avoiding Boromir’s gaze. Boromir shook his head.

“I can tell that you are not. I have seen how absent your mind is when Pippin is not around to take your thoughts elsewhere.”

It was true. Pippin noticed the changes in Merry’s mood quicker than anyone else and he was always by his side in an instant. Whether it was through food, song or joking around, Peregrin made sure that Merry’s heart would feel just a little bit lighter. He was a source of light for Merry as he so desperately needed it.

Merry stood up and left Boromir sitting alone. He made his way next to Pippin and the two immediately started joking around. Merry laughed at Pippin’s banter but the laugh did not come from his heart. Boromir and Merry exchanged meaningful looks once more until Merry got back to his distractions.

“What day is it, Gandalf?” asked Pippin, walking fast beside the Wizard, trying his best to keep up as he was so little.

“What does it matter, Peregrin Took?” asked Gandalf, irritated by the fifth question in a row that the young Took had presented. “Why must you be so inquisitive today? Can you go do something useful for once, instead of giving me a hard time?”

Pippin apologized, his frame sinking as he walked back to Merry.

“I told you,” said Merry. “You shouldn’t bother him too much, Pip. He gets annoyed easily.”

“Meriadoc is right, Peregrin,” Gandalf commented. Merry and Pippin slowed down as they had not realized he was still in the hearing distance. As he walked further away, he continued: “I do get annoyed when young Hobbits bother me and ask me stupid questions.”

“What is he, an owl? How did he hear that?” asked Merry.

“No, Master Meriadoc, I am not an owl,” Gandalf said loudly from a distance and Merry gulped. It made him wonder how well the Wizard could actually hear and how many of their conversations he had been eavesdropping on. Merry stopped Pippin by his arm so they could have their private conversations without Gandalf listening to them.

“I think he needs more pipe-weed to calm his nerves,” Pippin whispered and Merry snickered.

“I think so too,” said Merry and reached into his satchel. He pulled out the last remaining pipe-weed he had, walked a little forward towards Gandalf and Pippin smacked his hand.

“Merry!” Pippin whispered in shock. “You can’t actually go give Gandalf your last leaf! You promised me some!”

Merry chuckled and pulled out his own pipe.

“Pip, I was only joking. I am desperately craving pipe-weed and I am going to smoke the last of it as we walk. You can join me or not.”

Pippin smiled and bounced on his feet. He took his own wooden pipe from his belt where it was hanging from and smiled widely. The two were beginning to be left behind when Aragorn noticed them standing far away, where they were lighting up their last remaining pipe-weed.

“Merry! Pippin!” Aragorn shouted, his voice gentle but commanding. His shout sounded like one of a frustrated parental figure and it made Merry cough uncontrollably. Pippin smacked his back and after a moment of collecting himself, Merry took a sip of water and the two got back to the group. As the smoke and smell of the pipe-weed surrounded them all, Gandalf rolled his eyes.

“Hobbits,” he muttered to himself and lit up his own pipe.

Your breath was shaky as you stopped in your tracks.

“Rath,” you panted and he walked back to you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his hand on your shoulder and the wound on his palm bleeding on your cloak.

“My ankle hurts again,” you said, tears in your eyes. The pain was almost insufferable. You did not want to bother your friend, so you had kept the pain to yourself for several hours. As the aching got worse by the minute, you no longer could take it. It felt like arrows had been shot toward you and all of them landed on your twisted ankle. There was still a day of travel ahead and at first you were determined to make it there on your own; you couldn’t handle the idea of Rath having to carry you all the way to Isengard.

Just a few moments earlier an orc had ambushed you both and Rath got wounded; not in a way that was worse than any of his previous damages throughout his life, but his palm was cut deeply. Rath did not seem to mind it but seeing it made you feel slightly sick.

“Did something happen when we got ambushed?” he asked.

“No,” you said, shaking your head and a tear falling from your eye as the level of the pain began rising. “It’s been hurting for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he cried and sat down on the ground on his knees. He began examining your ankle. It was swollen and bruised; much worse than it was the previous day. “You should have let it heal longer. You should have told me. You know I can carry you.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Rath smiled. He found your insecurity and apologetic nature heartwarming. They were some of the traits he saw in you that reminded him of his little sister. Many of your traits in fact you shared with his sister. One that stood out to him the most was the child-like enthusiasm and curiosity you had begun to show him after traveling together for a rather long time.

“You are quite amusing, Baggins. You are no burden. I am happy to carry you.”

He guided you to sit down on the ground and elevate your leg on a nearby rock. He wrapped a cloth around it tightly, supporting the ankle as much as he could. He had some herbs with him that would ease the pain once mixed with some hot water, so he started a fire and made you a mixture that would soon lessen your agony.

“Are we far?” you asked.

“Far from what?” Rath asked, now dipping a cloth in the herb mixture, soaking it hot. He began pressing it softly on the swollen parts of your ankle. You hissed and bit your lower lip to hold back your reaction to the stinging sensation.

“Isengard.”

Rath moved the cloth around the ankle, pressing ever so slightly on one spot for a few seconds before moving to another.

“No, we are not far. Like I said, a day or two. If you allow me to carry you, I believe we will make it there by morning, if we are lucky.”

You felt some hope rise to the surface. Help was near and with luck you would soon find Merry, your brother and your friends.

“Are we going to rest before that?” you asked, already tired even though it was barely noon.

“If you need to. We can go as far as you feel like you can and then we can rest. I still have some mushrooms for you to eat later, if you are interested.”

Your eyes lit up from excitement and Rath looked at you, his head tilted and adoration in his eyes. He found the way that hobbits became fiends at the mention of mushrooms alluring and he loved teasing you with it ever since he learned about it.

“Any chance I could have some now?” you inquired, eyes full of hope. Rath laughed loudly.

“No, not yet,” he responded and you frowned. You did not realize the pain on your ankle was mostly gone. “I think you have to wait just a little bit longer, little one.”

“Why?” you cried in an almost child-like manner. He smiled and shook his head. You noticed the warm expression on his face and you tilted your head curiously. “What?”

“It’s just that sometimes you really remind me of my little sister.”

“I do? How come?”

Rath kept pressing the cloth on your ankle. The small fire he had lit up began dying down as you waited for his response eagerly.

“It’s just the way you talk and behave sometimes.”

“Behave?” you asked, narrowing your gaze.

“You can be quite childish,” he smirked and you gave him a playful push on his shoulder.

“Shut up,” you said with a chuckle. Your eyes widened as you realized the pain in your ankle was gone and Rath had begun to press the cloth on the wound on his own hand instead. You reached for the cloth and took it from him gently. He looked at you, puzzled and tried to take it back.

You held his hand still with your free hand. Softly you began to tap the damp cloth on the wound. Rath did not move his eyes off you for the whole time you took care of him. His bleeding slowly stopped after it had lasted for over half an hour and Rath began to stitch it himself with a needle and thread he had in his bag. You were always surprised by the amount of convenient equipment he carried with him.

“Thank you for that,” he said. To you he seemed almost embarrassed by showing vulnerability, but you did not see the guilt in his heart that he was hiding. When he finished patching himself up, he stood up and offered you his hand. “It’s time to go.”

Your laughter was so loud Rath had to put his hand over your mouth to quiet you down. The stories you both were sharing were ones of hilarious nature, so it was hard to keep it down and you forgot to be wary of the dangers around you.

“Sorry!” you whispered as he took his hand off your lips, your voice still cracking from amusement. Rath looked around the both of you and after he declared it was safe, he cracked up as well. Both of you giggled quietly, trying to not erupt into a laughter that would wake up every living thing around you.

“Do you want the mushrooms now?” Rath asked and you noticed he was holding a large pile of mushrooms in his hands. Their color was almost golden in the light of the campfire and your mouth began watering at the sight of them.

With a swift scoop you took all of the mushrooms to yourself and started shoving them in your mouth so quickly that one might have thought you had not eaten in days. Rath chuckled and shook his head. “Are they that good?”

“You have no idea,” you responded and took another handful of mushrooms from his grasp. You ate them so quickly you barely had any time to savor the earthy flavors.

“I am glad you enjoy them,” Rath said and rested his arms on his knees, staring into the fire across from him. The sight reminded you of the first night you met him. He had the same look in his eyes, but behind them was now more compassion than before. The aura around him was tense.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked him and he turned to look at you.

“My sister,” he responded and handed over the last mushrooms he had with him. You scooped them up and ate them immediately.

“What about your sister?”

“Just how much I miss her.”

“When are you going to see her?”

“Hopefully soon. I just need to… get you help first.”

You took a deep breath. You could not help but feel a little responsible for his sadness. You were the one to keep him occupied for so long. There was a part in you that wanted to send him back to his home so you could find your own way to the White Wizard and he would get to hug his family again; but you needed him. You needed someone to help you.

“Do you want to go home?” you asked and he furrowed his brows.

“Of course I do. But I need to finish this first.”

You shuffled right beside him and put your head on his shoulder, gently resting it there. You could feel him take a deep breath.

“I really do appreciate all that you’ve done for me, Rath.”

He took another deep breath and laid his head on top of yours. He said nothing, but you could feel the warmth and affection radiating from him. You had started to see him as family and he had become one of the closest friends you had ever had.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly. It was still dark, the campfire was still warm and your head was still resting on Rath’s shoulder. You had fallen asleep and were not sure how long you had been unconscious.

“I think I fell asleep,” you said, your voice raspy and faint.

“It seems that way,” Rath responded and chuckled. He was no longer resting against you, but he did not seem to be disturbed by your closeness and the way you used him as a pillow.

“Did I sleep for long?”

“Maybe an hour or so,” he answered and threw a piece of wood to the bright, golden flames. “The sun will come up in a few hours, if you need to sleep some more. We are not far.”

“I don’t need to,” you responded, even though your body was screaming for more rest.

“Whatever you say.”

You walked to the other side of the fire and dug into your bag. You were low on water, but your thirst had increased and you needed to hydrate. You chugged down the rest of your water in one go and put the bottle back in the bag. In slow steps you sat back down on the ground, resting against Rath some more.

“Why have you been so nice to me?” you asked. You had wondered about it for quite some time now. He had taken care of you for so long, but still you were not entirely sure whether you knew the whole truth. You did not understand why he had helped a worn out halfling he found passed out on the ground. “Why have you helped me all the way here?”

Rath did not answer right away. Instead he just stared into the fire and stayed so still he looked like a statue to you.

“You were in need of help,” he finally responded. “You were on the brink of death. I did not want that to happen.”

Your heart fluttered from affection. His words impacted you deeply and the sisterly love for him inside you grew every passing moment.

“You have saved me from the brink of death. There was no need for you to help me this far.”

“I wanted to help you. Partly for my own selfish reasons.”

You tilted your head and looked at him, almost thirsty to know more.

“Selfish reasons?” you repeated. He did not answer. “Rath?”

He leaned a little away from you and finally turned his gaze away from the fire, locking his eyes with you.

“Selfish reasons.”

“I heard you, Rath. I’m just curious: what were the reasons?”

Rath looked away again. His gaze drifted into the darkness across your campsite, into the depths of the forest and seemingly into another dimension. You could see his warm presence slowly fade away.

“I saw you laying there. I saw a helpless, little halfling. I needed to make sure you were alive. I had to nurse you back to health. And… It took longer than I expected. Then you started reminding me of my little sister.”

“I have to say you lost me. None of that is selfish, is it?”

“Just listen to me,” he snapped and your heart skipped a beat. This was the first time he had been so quick-tempered with you. He continued: “You started reminding me of my little sister every passing day and it made everything harder. I took different routes than I intended, just because you made me feel like I was at home with her.”

You smiled at him fondly. His reasons seemed perfectly valid to you; of course he missed her and if that made him want to be around you more, that was alright with you. Though, one thing he said bothered you.

“What do you mean it made everything harder?”

Rath swallowed and went completely silent. You could barely hear his breathing. The fire was dancing around gently and you could hear the crackling of the sparks. Rath’s exterior grew tense.

“There were rumors.”

“Rumors?”

Rath looked at you again. There was a deep, almost threatening blackness in his eyes as he looked at you. It made your breath hitch for a moment. You had never seen him look so dark.

“Rumors about something of great value being carried around. Something of immense power.”

“And you thought I could help with it?” you deducted, listening to him patiently and waiting for a more clear explanation. Rath seemed to be dragging it on and on, not entirely certain how to continue.

“They did not clarify what it was. Just that there was a prize for whoever brought it to Saruman.”

“Saruman?” you whispered, confused.

“The White Wizard.”

“Is that the reason we are going to Isengard? Did you find the item and not tell me?”

Rath did not respond. He looked at the grass beneath you and his face was blank.

“They said it was being carried by someone,” Rath continued, his voice almost cold now. “By a halfling.”

A wave of anxiety rushed through you and filled your heart. Your stomach twisted slightly at his words; words that you did not yet understand.

“What?”

“They said a halfling was carrying a great treasure and the one who brought it to him would redeem a great prize. And the halfling carrying it should be brought in alive and unharmed. And there were more rumors…”

“Rumors?” you asked again, your heart beating slightly faster. It felt like something heavy was pressing on your heart and shivers crept up your spine. Something was wrong.

“Rumors about the halfling. That the halfling carried the name ‘Baggins.’”

You moved away from him quickly. Not far, but you were no longer resting against him.

“What are you talking about?”

“This is not easy for me. I did not think I would grow so fond of you. I care about you.”

You stood up and took a step back from him. He looked at you with tears in his eyes, but his face was now cold and he was squeezing his fist roughly.

“Rath?” you said shakily. Your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your throat and your legs started to feel weak. It felt like your body was about to collapse.

"I wish it didn't have to be this way. The prize is too great. I need it. My family needs it. If you just give me the brooch, I can probably let you go,” he said, standing up and taking a step toward you. You took a few small steps back. His aura was now slightly threatening and your blood was going cold.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just give it to me!” he said, his voice now loud and commanding. He took two quick steps toward you and tried to reach for the daisy brooch on your chest. Your breath hitched and you backed away from him again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was a gift. It’s not–”

“Give me the damn thing!” Rath said, raising his voice. You felt tears rise to your eyes.

“No!” you cried and covered the brooch with your left hand. “It’s just a brooch! Please, stop this. You’re scaring me!”

Rath took several aggressive steps towards you and grabbed your hand. You squeezed the brooch tightly and he began trying to wrestle it off of you. Of course it was just a brooch, but Rath did not know it.

“Fucking give it to me!” he shouted, his eyes burning with rage. Your heart was beating so fast you could no longer hear properly. Dread took you over and you managed to squirm yourself off his grasp, falling on your side on the ground. You looked up at him, terrified, as you stumbled on your feet while getting back up. He was filled with rage. “I have to do this. I don’t want to have to hurt you!”

“No,” you responded with a shaky voice. You took one glance at your backpack, but it was out of your reach. You looked to your right but there was nothing you could use to defend yourself. Your head was spinning. Rath was betraying you. Rath’s gaze narrowed.

“You give me no choice,” he said, his voice dark and shaky. He started walking towards you with large, rage-filled steps. Your heart jumped and before you even realized it, you were running away with no sense of direction. It was still dark and you could not see ahead. Your only choices were to surrender to your friend who had betrayed your trust or to run for your life. You ran head first into the deep woods and did not look back. You could hear Rath’s heavy footsteps behind you as you ran and the wind howled in your ears.

“One more time!” Merry said, clapping his hands together once.

“Alright, alright!” Pippin responded and picked up another acorn off the ground. He lifted it to the same level as his eyes and stuck his tongue out as he focused on his aim. With a gentle movement he threw the acorn towards Merry. Merry lifted his arm up quickly and caught the acorn mid-air.

“Yes!” shouted Merry and Pippin at the same time. Frodo and Boromir clapped at them enthusiastically, supporting their accomplishment. They had been throwing acorns for a while to pass the time and Merry and Pippin had managed to catch ten in a row. It was a silly way to pass the time, but Gandalf was busy thinking and they had to do something before moving forward.

“Can I try again? I believe I can beat your record,” Boromir said and smirked at Merry.

“Go ahead. Though, I doubt it!”

Boromir chuckled and switched places with Pippin. He sat on the ground, his legs crossed and he picked up several acorns, throwing them at Merry all at once. A few hit him in the face, while the rest of them flew past him or dropped in his lap.

“Oh, my bad!” Boromir grinned.

“What was that about?” Merry cried, rubbing his stinging face.

“I just wanted to prove that you are no champion. I managed to catch five of them at once, after all.”

“You have bigger hands!” Merry responded and Boromir laughed loudly. “Besides, I was supposed to throw acorns for you to catch to prove you wrong.”

“Alright, alright!” Boromir said, his hands up in surrender. “I just wanted to mess with you, Merry. Do your best.”

Merry took a few acorns and put them on his left palm. He took one at a time, and by the eight one that Boromir had caught in a row, he found himself to be a sore loser; he threw all the acorns at once, hitting his big brother-figure in the face.

“Merry!” shouted Aragorn, who was now standing there beside them. He had not seen the playful banter before. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I was just-”

“Merry has been bullying Boromir a lot,” said Pippin. Merry’s jaw dropped at Pippin's good-natured betrayal.

“Pippin!” Merry cried.

“He has been absolutely awful,” grinned Pippin. Aragorn shook his head in disapproval.

“Stop messing with him and behave,” Aragorn said and smiled at Boromir knowingly. The three tended to tease Merry around a lot and these early hours of a new day were no different. Aragorn straightened his coat and gestured towards Gandalf. “He has made up his mind. We must proceed.”

Merry, Pippin and Boromir got up from the ground simultaneously and left the small piles of acorns behind. As they continued their journey, Boromir smirked and gave Merry a friendly smack on his back.

“You’re all awful,” he muttered.

The morning light started to come up and you were panting heavily. The rock you were resting against was cold and your ankle was burning with pain. You had not heard any movement around you for fifteen minutes and you were wishing Rath was now far behind.

You peeked from behind the mossy boulder and scanned your surroundings. There was no sign of any other living thing. You got into a more comfortable position, closed your eyes and burst into tears.

The betrayal felt like someone stabbed your heart and nothing had hurt you so badly in a long time. It was not quite as bad as when Merry left you, but it still felt like your world was once again collapsing around you. Your cheeks were burning up and you could taste the salty tears on your dried up lips. You wanted to scream the pain out. A small wail escaped your throat and you put your hand over your lips to suffocate your cries. You did not want to be heard.

“I know you’re here!” shouted Rath from somewhere close by and you immediately got up, limping away from your hiding spot. You were not sure if he heard you and had located you, but you did not feel safe staying still. The grass and gravel under you made soft noises as you went forward, and every now and then your ankle gave out, making you fall with a loud thump.

You scratched your cheek on the gravel as you fell on your stomach. It stung but you knew there was no time to stay and try to make it better. You got up so quickly you almost twisted your ankle again, so you fell on your knees. With a small cry of pain you got up again.

To your right was a cliff. There were many boulders around it and it looked like it would also have several places to take cover and hide, so you started to quietly limp towards it. When you reached the tall cliff, you turned around to see if Rath was anywhere in sight. All the trees were still and the sky was grey. Nothing was moving in the grass.

You turned your back to the forest and started climbing the cliff as fast as you could. Your ankle felt like it was about to crack off your body as you put your weight on it. Every step with it erupted a sharp grunt out of your mouth. Towards the top your hands started to slip as there was some water resting on top of the rocks. You could hear some movement of water in the pressuring silence. As you reached up, you finally felt the steady top of the cliff. In a grunt of pain you lifted yourself up and crashed down on the top, your cheek hitting the cold stone.

You barely had gotten up when your wrists were grabbed tightly and Rath turned you around to face him. With a loud scream of fear you started to fight him off.

“No!” you cried, trying to stay on your feet as the pain grew worse. Rath’s grip was strong and he was bruising your skin with every movement he made.

“I need to do this for my family!” Rath cried, his voice one of pain and guilt. His eyes were still filled with rage and despite being terrified of him, you could see he truly had grown fond of you and felt hurt himself.

“Let me go!” you said, tears falling down your scratched up and burning cheeks. “Please! Don’t do this!”

“My family needs this!” he shouted and pulled you in closer. His breath was hot on your face as he held onto you tightly He was trying to hold your wrists with one hand and the other one was trying to unhook the golden brooch off your cloak.

You felt yourself almost lose your balance and you took a quick glance over your shoulder. You were on the edge of the cliff and behind you, way down was dark water. It seemed endlessly deep. With one swift movement you tried to switch sides with Rath so you could push him down and run away before he got up from the water, but it was no use. He did not move an inch and his grip on you was still strong. The pain of his betrayal and physical assault made more tears fall from your eyes as you stumbled a bit closer to the edge.

“Stop!”

“My sister needs this. Just fucking--”

A loud wail of wind passed your ear and a fleshy sound followed it. An arrow sunk into the left side of Rath’s chest and your wrists were released. He fell on his back, gasping for air and your heart sank from the sight of your friend’s spirit passing away.

The brooch was steady on your chest but your feet slipped on the cold, grey, wet stone and you were no longer touching the ground. There was only air around you as you fell backwards and somewhere away from the cliff were loud noises you could not decipher.

As you plunged into the cold water, you felt paralyzed and the darkness around you began consuming you. You could not move. You sunk down deeper and you could see movement on top of the cliff over the surface, but it was blurry and far. You felt your lungs get heavier and your head felt light. The last remaining air was escaping your lungs and the pressure in your body was growing unbearable. You thought of Merry and how you’d never be able to see him again. You thought of your parents and the way they died; how it was about to happen to you.

There was a loud splash you could barely hear through the ringing of your ears and as a large hand grabbed your cloak, your vision darkened and you saw no more.

Chapter Text

You couldn't breathe. Every inch of your body was hurting and the pressure in your head was unbearable. There was nothing but darkness around you. Tears fell from your eyes and you could feel them burning against your cheeks. But tears don't run down when you're drowning, do they?

You woke up with a snap when you realized you were just dreaming. You didn't dare to open your eyes. There was silence around you and you could feel a soft mattress under your aching back. A cotton pillow caressed the back of your head gently and for a moment you were certain that you were back in Buckland; or even Bag End and it had all been a terrible nightmare.

You reached around you, eyes still closed. You felt a comfortable duvet covering you and to your left, your fingertips gently touched the edge of a wooden nightstand. Slowly your eyes fluttered open.

The ceiling was low and made of wood, a strong pillar holding it together from the center. There was only one small window to your right that provided little to no light. It was warm in the room and the dark wood made it feel almost homey.

You sat up on the bed and noticed you had been laid down on a rather sizable bed. The duvet covering you was thick and it was colored scarlet and dark green. On it were details made with thread that looked like it was made from gold. Your fingers traced the soft fabric carefully and you sighed from relief; at least you were likely not in Isengard.

As your feet touched the wooden floor you noticed your ankle had been wrapped in a cloth securely, making your steps steady and the pain minimal. You wiggled your toes and pinched your arm to make sure you were really awake. The pinch stung and you exhaled loudly.

When you looked at your wrists, a painful memory surfaced. Rath grabbing your wrists violently was still fresh in your mind. You did not know if it happened hours ago, or maybe it had been weeks; you had no way of knowing how long you were unconscious for. You thought about everything that had happened, and your heart skipped a beat when you realized that you had almost drowned; and in seconds your heart shattered when you remembered an arrow piercing Rath’s heart; someone you had considered family, yet it was someone who betrayed you in the most horrible way.

On the nightstand was only one of your belongings: your daisy brooch. You had left everything you owned behind and now it was all you had that reminded you of home.

Next to the bed was an ottoman made of cherry wood and the fabric on top was emerald green, and it looked like the softest furniture you had ever seen. On it were your clothes and cloak in a clean pile, folded carefully and set there waiting for you.

You explored the small room a little more. There was an empty wooden dresser and on it were curious carvings of horses and soldiers. There was nothing else in it but folded and clean linen.

There was a small potted plant on the windowsill, but you did not recognize the flower. You found it to be one of the most beautiful flora you had ever seen. It was orange around the edges and black in the middle, the stem was bright green and all you could think about was how much Samwise would love it.

You were wearing a dress you did not recognize, but it felt comfortable. Someone had indeed put a brown dress on you, but your undergarments were still your own, so you thought about it no further. The dress was beautiful and you put your own leather corset that survived on top of it, immediately feeling much more comfortable in your own skin.

The door creaked loudly as you took a peek from the crack of it, scanning your surroundings. There was a long hall outside the room but there was no one in sight. You popped your head out of the door and looked to your left, only to see a locked door you could not access. On your right was another room, the door of it slightly open, but no one was inside.

Carefully you stepped out and closed the heavy door behind you. You took very small steps, which you hoped would not be heard by anyone. You tiptoed around carefully, sneaking as Hobbits tend to do so well; and then there were sounds of people talking.

You looked around a corner and there were several armored men gathered around a large table. They were all standing tall, examining a map in front of them and conversing about the whereabouts of some orcs. You understood everything since they were talking in the common tongue. Their armor was partly colored almost a reddish brown and it was rather kingly looking.

You felt your neck sweat and your fingers were fidgeting the hem of your new dress. It took you a moment before you gathered up your courage and stepped out of your hiding.

“Excuse me?” you said in a faint voice. The heads of the men turned simultaneously but their eyes didn't meet yours since they were expecting someone taller; except one of the men, the most broad of them all and whose eyes locked on you immediately.

He started walking straight to your direction and you took a step back from him as a memory of Rath approaching you with aggression flashed in your mind. The man in front of you lifted his hands up slowly.

“It's okay, I'm not going to harm you,” he said. His voice was raspy but gentle, and his golden hair fell all the way to his shoulders. He took one step closer to you and slowly lowered himself down to your level. You were shorter than an average Hobbit, so he had to squat down on his knees. “You're safe.”

“Where am I?” you asked, trembling from anxiety.

“We found you in trouble near Isengard, around the gap of Rohan and I pulled you out of the water after shooting an arrow into the chest of the man who was assaulting you,” he explained in a calm manner. He was very straight-forward with his words. “You're in Rohan. Edoras, to be exact.”

“Where?” you asked, having no clue where Rohan was. Surely it was something you had seen on the maps but could not remember where it was located.

“Rohan. You're safe,” he repeated. He took your hand between his carefully and looked you in the eyes with a faint, reassuring smile. “Can we go back to your room and talk?”

You nodded and decided to put your faith in this strange man, who was tall and muscular, his eyes sparkling and his aura confident. The other, husky men in armor looked at you with curiosity before you disappeared behind a corner.

You sat down on the bed in the room the man had called yours. He stood by the door, his hands behind his lower back and a gentle smile on his face.

“Can you please tell me what has happened? Who are you? What day is it?”

“That's a lot of questions,” he said and walked around the room, looking at the ground. “Like I said, we saved you.”

“We?”

“Rohirrim.”

“He was my friend,” you said faintly. You were friends with Rath. His death was burdening your heart heavily.

“He did not seem like one,” answered the man who you had now noted to be very handsome, and taller than the others.

“He was, at least for my part,” you said, looking at the bruises on your wrists. “He just… was going through something difficult.”

“He was going to kill you,” said the man. He was sure of it; and so were you. You nodded. He continued: “And it's January 6th. You were unconscious for some time. Although, we did make sure you stayed unconscious. You were in need of rest, so we gave you some herbs to keep you asleep.”

“I do feel well rested,” you said and tried to give him a small smile, but your heart was heavy and even a small positive gesture seemed like an impossible task. The man looked at your wrists.

“He did quite a lot of damage to your body. It's been several days and you're still very bruised.”

“My ankle feels better,” you noted and lifted your feet up a little.

“It's still in quite bad shape, but my cousin has agreed to take care of it,” he commented and stopped to look out of the small window. “You'll heal in no time.”

“Who are you?” you asked and he turned around with a small ‘hm?’.

“You can call me Théodred.”

“If you don't mind me saying, you're quite kingly looking.”

He chuckled softly and walked up to you.

“So I have heard. I am Théodred, son of Théoden. Son of Théoden King.”

Your eyes widened. You were looking at a prince and your legs felt weak. There you were talking to him like it was an everyday conversation, and he was one of a royal family. You blushed vividly, stood up and bowed.

“Apologies, my Lord.”

“You are forgiven,” he said with a smile. “I'll alert my cousin and let her know you have woken up. She'll bring you something to eat. I imagine you're quite ravenous.”

Your stomach growled. You had not even realized just how hungry you were and now that it had been pointed out, your stomach felt bottomless.

“Thank you,” you said and bowed once again. Théodred's eyes were full of kindness as he left your room.

The instant the door closed you plopped down on your bed. You were amongst royal people and you felt almost guilty; you didn't belong there. Why were you there?

Your legs crossed, you were examining the candlestick that was on your nightstand. It was silver and highly detailed, the pictures on it made with expert craftsmanship. As you were looking at the fancy detailing of it, there was a gentle knock on the door.

In walked a fair woman. Her beautiful long hair was golden and her eyes were blue and there was a sparkle in them like an ocean under the sun. She was wearing a green gown with golden lace over her tall, slender body and on her neck was a golden jewel with a blue, seemingly expensive stone in the middle. Her skin was pale and her beauty was unremarkable. She looked like a daughter of kings.

You cleared your throat and got up from the bed, bowing deep at the young woman standing in front of you. She let out a soft chuckle.

“There's no need to bow,” she said. Her voice was light and gentle. “I brought you some soup.”

She put the red soup and the silver tray it was on on the dresser. She fixed the hem of her dress and gestured to the food.

The soup smelled like sundried tomatoes and fresh herbs. Your mouth watered and you looked at the fair maiden for permission to eat. She was one of royalty and you did not want to do anything to disrespect her. She smiled and gently pushed you by your back. You walked to the dresser and hopped on top of it, sitting down comfortably; and not very appropriately for such a fancy place.

You took the warm bowl in your hands and started eating the soup slowly, taking shy glances at the woman standing next to you. The soup did indeed smell delicious, but the taste was not one for the history books.

“Thank you,” you whispered after a moment.

“It was no trouble,” she answered with a soft smile. “How are you feeling?”

“I'm alright,” you responded and ate another spoonful. Despite being one of the worst tasting tomato soups you had ever had in your mouth, you were so hungry you quickly devoured it all.

“I'm glad you like it,” she said, gesturing at the bowl in your hands.

“Can I ask for your name?”

“Éowyn,” she said and leaned against the dresser you were sitting on. “If you don't mind me asking, what were you doing so close to Isengard? Théodred told me how they found you.”

You didn't want to answer because it was too painful to think about. You missed Rath despite everything he had done and more than that, you now had no clue where you were or how far Merry was. Isengard and Rath were the closest thing to finding hope.

“It doesn't matter,” you responded, your words ambiguous to her. Éowyn took your hand in hers. Her small hands were cold as they caressed the back of your hand.

“You are safe now.”

“I know,” you responded, even though you were not entirely sure if you could trust these people. You did not know for sure if you were safe at all.

“I have never seen your kind before. I thought your kind only existed in the tales my father and uncle used to tell me when I was little.”

This amused you. People didn't know much about Hobbits and seeing someone so surprised solely by your existence made your smile widen.

“We tend to keep in hiding.”

“You are very little, so I suppose it is rather easy,” she smiled and started walking out of the room. “Please, get more rest.”

Like a reflex you bowed again and Éowyn walked to the door, her dress flowing in captivating motions as she walked. She stopped and turned around. Her face was serious when she talked.

“We are trying to keep as many people as possible unaware that you are here. For your own safety. If you could, stay in your room as much as possible. I will make sure you have something to do while you’re here.”

“I understand,” you responded. In that moment you had no objections; you wanted to stay as safe as possible and heal from both your physical and emotional damage in peace.

“Is there anything I can bring you to keep you busy and enjoy your time alone? I will of course visit you as much as I can, but I have duties.”

“If you have any books, I would like that,” you said shyly. “There’s of course no need and I don’t mean to demand too much from you.”

Éowyn smiled and left the room, leaving a faint aroma of her flowery perfume behind. Her personality was warm and welcoming, and you felt at ease around her.

The following few weeks went by quickly. You spent practically every moment inside the room they had provided for you and Éowyn visited you daily. You had gotten to know the Lady of Rohan well in the days that had passed and had learned about the concerning situation with her uncle, the Lord of the Mark. According to Éowyn, the King was ill and whenever he was being talked to, he had seemed to be mentally somewhere else.

Your ankle healed in the few weeks you stayed in your room and your frustration had finally begun to grow, as you were forced to stay inside four walls for so long.

Your ear was pressed against the wooden door and when you could no longer hear the footsteps of men outside your room, you opened the door and stepped out.

The hallway was dark and only in the distance were a few candle lights providing any visibility. Slowly you walked with light steps, hoping the floorboards would not creek under your feet so you could sneak out to explore in peace.

When you made your way past a guard that had fallen asleep on watch, you entered a large hall. Its walls were covered with tapestry and the ceiling looked like stripes made of gold. Meduseld it was called and your eyes sparkled with admiration as you looked around the room. You did not step further into the hall as you heard noises. You could not distinguish what the voice was saying, but the words were spoken in a tone that sent shivers down your spine and made your heart beat faster.

You snuck around the corner as low as you could and when you peeked around the corner, there were two men to your left, their backs facing you. The other man was sitting on the throne, hunched up and his hands weakly leaning on his staff. Next to him was a pale man who spoke in a manner that made you uncomfortable in ways you could not explain. His hair was dark and to you he did not look like the other men of Rohan. His whole essence made you feel troubled and as he started turning around, suspicious of his surroundings, you ducked back behind the corner. Eyes closed and your back pressed against the wall, you were trembling and hoping not to get caught.

“My Lord?” said a familiar voice to your right and without paying attention to you, Théodred walked past you to his father and his advisor, who sounded rather irritated by the arrival of the King’s son. You decided to take another glimpse behind the corner and saw Théoden kneeling in front of his father, holding his hand, face full of sorrow and worry. They talked in a language you did not understand, but recognized a few words to sound similar to your own.

Théodred left the room looking defeated and on his way out, he gently, but with a tight grip lifted you up by the sleeve of your dress and snuck you out of the golden hall.

“You ought not to be sneaking around, young halfling,” said Théodred as the doors closed behind you. He let go of your sleeve after he walked you into a dark corner, making sure no one else saw you. The look on his face was firm and commanding, but his eyes softened as he saw you tremble in front of him.

“My Lord, I am so sorry,” you said, lips quivering. You feared he might toss you to Isengard for misbehaving and for not following his commands. “I just needed to leave the room for a moment. I should not have defied your commands.”

His eyes were fixed on you for a moment that felt like forever. Then he smiled and gave a soft pat on your shoulder.

“Come on.”

Théodred started guiding you towards a door you had never entered before. The door was a small side door to the outside and as it opened, you felt fresh air on your skin for the first time in weeks. The sky was clear and you noticed how high up you really were.

Edoras was not the largest city you had imagined it to be, but it was captivating to look at. It stood high on a hill and the breeze was cool on your face. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, smelling the fresh air of new surroundings and inhaling the relief of finally being outside. A tear fell from your eye as you relaxed properly for the first time in a long while. When you opened your eyes, Théodred was smiling kindly. You gave him a soft smile back and rubbed your hands on your arms, as the cold wind was quickly starting to make you shiver.

As you looked to the distance of the large, far away lands with no other Hobbits nearby; no home anywhere to be seen, your mood dropped. You began wondering how far Merry was and if he was alright. You thought of all the bad things that had happened and a fear crept up in your body again; what if he was dead?

Your thoughts traveled deeper. Your memory was still hazy from time to time and now for the first time you remembered Rath’s words. Orcs and Saruman were looking for a Baggins. They were looking for your brother. Frodo, Merry and all of your friends were in grave danger.

“What worries you so deeply?” asked Théodred suddenly, having noticed the gloomy switch in your emotions. “I can see you are struggling.”

“I just miss my friends,” you responded quietly. You did not want to let him in on the whole truth.

Théodred stepped closer to you, his hands behind his back and a pondering look on his face. His golden hair seemed a lot darker in the night but his eyes were still just as bright in the moonlight.

“Are you far away from home?” he asked you, looking to the distant horizon with you.

“If I’m being perfectly honest, I do not know.”

Théodred turned his head and his left eyebrow rose with curiosity.

“You do not know?”

You shook your head and looked at the ground. You tried not to think about Rath’s words. Your ankle was no longer swollen but other damages were to be seen on your body: there were several scratches from your time traveling with Rath and you were not sure if they would ever heal. You thought about the safety of the Shire and how you longed to be back in your own bed.

“I don’t really know anything outside of the Shire.”

“The Shire?”

“Yes. It’s where I live. Or lived.”

Trusting someone new was something you thought would be hard after Rath’s betrayal, but everyone you had interacted so far in Edoras gave you an unexplainable sense of comfort and trust; but then again, so did Rath. But these were daughters and sons of Kings.

“I would love to hear more about it,” Théodred said. His eyes were shining with kindness and genuine interest. The left corner of your lip curled slightly upwards into a small smile and you nodded.

The loss of Gandalf was heavy on everyone’s heart. The Elves in Lothlórien were singing apathetically and Frodo was sitting in a corner, devastated by the loss. Aragorn had not said a word in a while, which had caused Gimli to get so upset he started spending more time with Legolas to get his mind elsewhere.

Merry had his arm around Pippin, who was sobbing quietly and guilt-ridden. Young Peregrin Took blamed himself for the tragic loss of the Grey Wizard and he feared all of the beings in Middle-Earth did so too. Merry was the biggest source of comfort for Pippin. Even though everyone knew that he was quite a fool, they also knew that he did not do it on purpose and meant no harm. No one was truly mad at him but everyone was filled with grief.

“Mister Frodo?” said Sam softly. Frodo turned his head slowly, eyes filled with tears. He looked down at Sam’s hands. He was holding a pile of bread and fresh fruits. “You need to eat something.”

“I am not hungry, Sam,” Frodo responded, his voice quiet and pain in his eyes. Sam frowned.

“Please, Mister Frodo.”

Frodo forced a smile on his face and took a few fruits off Sam’s hands. He mouthed a thank you to Sam, who sat besides him to enjoy the bread he had carried which Frodo did not take.

“Merry?” said Pippin quietly. Pippin and Merry had moved a little further away from everyone else to have some privacy and to grieve in their own ways; and to sleep without Gimli's snoring bothering them.

“What?” asked Merry, frustrated.

“I’m sorry. I just–”

“What?” Merry asked again, hearing how Pippin’s voice cracked from sadness. He turned his head and saw tears in Pippin’s eyes, which made him realize he had just used a rather snappy tone to answer his vulnerable best friend. “Oh, Pip. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. What is it?”

“I miss Gandalf,” Pippin muttered, and Meriadoc’s heart shattered hearing it.

“We all do,” Merry responded. “Please, stop blaming yourself. I can see that you’re still doing it.”

“But–”

“Pip,” Merry said, gently commanding his friend to stop being so hard on himself. Pippin nodded.

Merry stared at the tall trees of Lothlórien, his eyes following the golden leaves glittering amongst them. They were more elegant than any leaves he had seen, but not the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes upon.

Of course, Lady Galadriel was seen as the fairest of all beings and even Merry could not deny her remarkable beauty, but his heart was elsewhere and the most beautiful thing he had ever seen was held there, deep inside.

“I never told her,” Merry muttered as he admired the trees.

“What?” Pippin responded.

“Her ears,” Merry continued, confusing Pippin further.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Merry.”

Merry sighed. He could not take his mind off you. Every passing second he spent thinking about you and your whereabouts, for he missed you and was still worried you had left the Shire.

“I never told her what her tell was,” Merry said. He had mentioned a few times that you had a specific tell which he could use to deduct how you were feeling at all times and Merry felt guilty for never letting you know what it was.

“Her tell is… her ears?” Pippin said, furrowing his brows, trying to wrap his mind around his best friend’s odd remarks.

“Her ears. When she feels happy or excited, they flutter. And when she feels embarrassed or shy, the tips of them turn pink. Sometimes when she finds something remarkably funny, her ears flap and vibrate so much I fear she might just fly off.”

Pippin snorted. The image of you flying away by the sheer power of your fluttering ears was hilarious to him.

“I have noticed that a few times, but I've never paid any attention to when her ears do any of that stuff,” said Pippin.

“They remind me of butterfly wings. Her ears, I mean. Her face is always radiant when she feels joy, but I don’t think anything compares to when she tries to keep a straight face and her ears twitch ever so slightly as she tries to hold back her smile. A few times when she was devastated, I noticed the sadness because of her ears. They looked like they were frowning, if that makes sense. Not really bent downwards, but just… sad.”

Pippin nodded. He was of course aware of Merry having feelings for you, but he had never realized just how deep it actually was. To him it seemed like a two-way crush which might pass by any given moment, but now even he realized it was not like that. It was much deeper.

“I've never noticed,” said Pippin. “I was wondering how you practically always know what mood she’s in. I just thought I was clueless, but I guess I just never think to observe those kinds of things.”

“I didn’t have to observe. It’s just the little details I learned without even trying. Seeing the way she smiled at me when I said something funny and the twitching of the ears… It was always so alluring to me and it made my days better. And it took me so long to realize that I don’t like her as just a friend. She has never failed to entice me. She is so beautiful that my heart beats almost unbearably fast just thinking about her. And I realized it too late.”

“I’ve never heard you talk about her like this before,” Pippin said. He looked at Merry, whose hands were resting on his stomach to ease his anxiety and heartache. Even though Pippin was clueless sometimes, this time he made an observation; Pippin felt confident they would be back home in no time, whilst Merry spoke of you in a way that made it clear he was sure he would never see you again. Pippin pouted. “I didn’t know that you really feel this deeply for her.”

Merry stayed quiet. His heart felt like it was about to burst through his chest from the overwhelming emotions he was experiencing; all the grief, devastation, guilt, longing, love and fear.

“I’ve never felt this way for anyone. It scared me. It still does because there’s nothing I can do about it,” said Merry, his devastation obvious from his voice. Pippin sighed, hurting for his friend. Pippin of course missed you too but it was not the place or the time to talk about that; even he knew it.

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve seen the way she looks at you. The pining has most definitely been mutual,” Pippin smirked, trying to release the tension.

Merry did not smile or move. He was breathing heavily. He wasn’t entirely sure of the depths of his feelings before, but after all that time away from you it was finally clear to him; it was just a matter of courage and fully admitting it to himself.

Pippin stayed quiet with him. The Hobbits were both laying on their backs, looking up to the branches of the trees. Merry was gathering up his courage to say the words out loud. He took a deep breath, but the words got stuck in his throat. His mouth felt dry and his heart was hurting; he did not want to be so far away from you. He wanted to say these things to you, but he couldn’t. His emotions felt like they were boiling up and he felt the need to muster up the courage to say them out loud before he would explode; even if it was just to Pippin and himself.

“I’m in love with her, Pippin.”

Pippin turned his head and looked at Merry, on whose cheek was rolling a singular tear of relief and pain. Pippin was not sure what to say; but he knew he had to be there for Merry.

Pippin stood up, picked up his blanket and pillow into his arms and walked up to Merry. Merry’s eyes were still fixed on the golden vines of leaves above them when Pippin put his belongings down right next to him and laid back down. The two laid there silently, close enough to provide comfort, but to also give each other space.

And there they fell asleep, giving each other close yet distant support, listening to the rustling of leaves, smooth and quiet water, faint singing and light footsteps of the Elves.

“My brother used to often tease me when I was younger,” Éówyn said, her soft laughter filling the air. The wind was blowing some stray hairs on her face which she had to keep moving behind her ear. “He would sometimes throw eggs at me because he knew how much I despised the smell.”

“I think my brother’s way of teasing was always more subtle,” you chuckled, looking at the mountains across. Éowyn had brought you outside from the same side door Théodred had shown. It was day-time, so both of you had to be aware of your surroundings at all times. You did not want to risk being seen by anyone else. Théodred had made sure that the other guards that saw you kept quiet about it.

“You seem like a trickster yourself,” she smirked and elbowed your side softly. “It must run in your blood.”

“We’re actually not related by blood as far as I know. I was adopted into the family.”

“May I ask what happened?” Éowyn asked carefully.

“My parents drowned when I was young. My uncle took me in and he had also taken my brother in.”

Éowyn stroked your arm gently.

“I am sorry you had to go through all of that,” she said and you gave her a faint smile.

“It’s quite alright. It has made me terrified of water, though.”

Éowyn’s eyes widened slightly.

“And to think that my cousin saved you from that fate.”

You nodded and took another sip of the tea in your hands. The flavor of it was sweet and fruity, but it was not nearly as good as any tea Frodo had made. The tea had cooled down a bit, so the bitter flavors started to push through, making your eyebrow twitch.

“Thank you for taking me out here,” you said while inhaling the fresh air. “It was much needed.”

“It was no trouble,” she said. There was a short silence that she followed with a question: “Have you heard from your friend?”

“No,” you said quietly, taking another sip of tea. “I wish I knew where he was.”

Éowyn looked at you, her eyes full of compassion as she saw the way you teared up and moved your gaze to the ground. You had talked about everyone to her but your stories were always revolving around Merry; although you had not told her any names.

“Do you mind if I make an observation?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t think he’s just a friend to you, is he?” Éowyn continued. A faint blush spread across your cheeks and the corner of your mouth twitched slightly upwards.

“No, he is not just a friend.”

“I thought as much,” she smirked. “I know true love when I see it.”

Those words deepened your blush and you looked away from Éowyn to hide your flustered face. The word ‘love’ was such a strong one and just thinking about saying it out loud made your heart feel like it would explode in your chest.

“How about you?” you asked her to push the conversation away from you and Merry.

“Well, so far nothing–”

There were footsteps behind you nearing the door. Éowyn rushed you to hop off the edge and to hide behind a rock. You followed her orders immediately and hid away from whoever was about to come through the door.

Outside stepped Théodred and you both sighed from relief. He let out a small chuckle as he saw your head pop back up from behind the rock. From his point of view you looked like a small, pointy-eared child playing hide-and-seek.

“I need to leave,” Théodred said to Éowyn. She stood up and looked at him, worried.

“How long will you be gone?” she asked him, a frown on her pale face.

“I do not know,” he responded. “I need you to keep trying while I’m gone.”

“I will try,” Éówyn said gloomily. “But I do not think there’s much I can do. I think he is being fed words by a snake. But I can try.”

Théodred took a step closer to Éowyn and pressed his forehead against hers. They held each other close, talking in a language foreign to you as their foreheads were pressed against each other and you observed the loving exchange between them from afar.

“Keep taking care of her,” Théodred whispered to Éowyn and glanced at your direction. She nodded and exhaled loudly, her breath trembling.

“Come back soon.”

“I will,” Théodred responded and pulled back from the embrace. He bowed to his cousin and to you before entering back into the building. Éowyn took a deep breath and called you back to her.

“Let’s go back inside,” she smiled.

As you were about to enter your door, you saw Théodred walk on the other side of the hallway in his full armor, ready to leave. He did not see you. He put his sword in its sheath and walked away. There was an uncomfortable twist in your stomach that told you that you would never see him again.

“Gimli and Legolas have been spending so much time together that I don’t even think I know where they are,” Sam said. For hours the four Hobbits had been sitting in a circle on the grass, exchanging stories that happened back home.

“They have indeed been spending a lot of… quality time alone,” Merry smirked. Pippin took one glance at his best friend and knew where his mind was, so he decided to join in the mischief.

“They sure have. You don’t think that they… Surely not?” Pippin said with a tone that suggested there was something more intimate going on between the Dwarf and the Elf. Both Pippin and Merry loved stirring the pot to pass the time, and they saw this as a perfect opportunity to mess with the rest of the Fellowship.

“Oh, stop that!” Sam said with a frustrated and lecturing tone. “You’re just trying to mess with us and once again create some sort of a storm.”

“Us? Surely not!” said Pippin and Merry simultaneously. They looked at each other with wide grins on their faces and a glint of mischief in their eyes.

“You two always–”

“Now come on, Sam!” Frodo said, joining in on the fun. “Have you noticed how they are gone for hours? If not days? And always just the two of them, refusing to take any of us with them. I think Pippin and Merry might be right about this one.”

Of course Frodo did not believe a word of what he said, but the longer they had been resting in Lothlórien, the more they needed some other fun than what the Elves had to offer. Mourning Gandalf was necessary but tiresome, and even Frodo needed a light-hearted conversation every once in a while.

“See?” Merry smirked and Sam narrowed his gaze.

He leaned towards Pippin and whispered something in his ear. Pippin looked like he was pondering something serious for a moment before he gave Sam an approving nod.

“You seem to know a lot about going off somewhere alone with someone and there being more going on than other people can see,” Sam said and Merry immediately knew where the conversation was about to go. “And you thought we wouldn’t notice how you blushed–”

“Hey, now…”

“And you denied it for so long!” smirked Pippin. “Just friends, he said…”

“Ah, and he denied it when I asked. Many times!” continued Sam.

You and Merry were kind of a taboo subject, but they decided it was time to make some light jokes on the matter to ease up the tension around it. Sam was not one to tease, nor was he one for childish antics, but he wanted to make you something Merry could talk about if he needed - and even he realized that humor and banter was the way to go when it came to Merry.

So far Merry had mostly talked about you mostly in a serious and heartbreaking manner and they wanted to give him hope; that maybe, just maybe he would see you again.

“Listen!” Merry cried, trying to stop his friends from teasing him.

“And it’s my sister!” Frodo said dramatically, but on his face was a big smile of approval and sympathy.

“Can you blame me?” Merry said, crossing his arms. “Have you seen her?”

Frodo, Pippin and Frodo smiled. This was the first time he had talked about you in front of all of them so casually; it was like they were teasing him back at the Green Dragon. This time he did not have sad eyes on him, but there was a small glimmer of hope in them, and a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he said your name. He had talked about you during the journey, told stories about you often to Boromir, Frodo and Pippin, but he was always slightly absent and in his eyes you could see the devastation. Finally it seemed to be a little different.

“Look at the way he is blushing!” teased Pippin.

Merry’s heart felt warm. He realized what his friends were doing and even if it did not help with the heartache of leaving you, it helped him in many other ways.

“You didn’t even see it! No one said anything for years and years!” Merry cried, trying to defend himself. “I’m not the blind one.”

The three laughed.

“I am pretty sure all of us saw it before you did,” said Frodo. “I don’t know when you realized it, but I saw it every time you looked at her across the kitchen table when we were having dinner together.”

“No you didn’t!” Merry said, his jaw slightly dropping.

“Look, I know you were blind but we were not,” Pippin said and looked at Merry with a playfully serious face. “We just waited for you two lovebirds to figure it out yourselves.”

“And you never thought to say anything?” Merry said.

“We weren’t entirely sure we were right but we did bet on it,” Frodo smirked.

“What?” Merry said, eyes widening. Then he squinted. “If you all placed bets that we had feelings for each other, doesn’t that mean that no one got any money?”

There was a small moment of silence before Sam and Frodo started chuckling. Merry turned to Pippin, who was frowning and blushing.

“It means that Pippin is blind and owes us 20 quid,” said Sam with the most genuine mischievous smirk that had ever been on his face.

“I thought they were just very, very close friends,” Pippin finally admitted quietly, seemingly embarrassed.

“In all fairness, I think they did too,” said Frodo, and Merry smiled faintly.

You could hear the raindrops hitting the roof of the building as you sat in your room, finishing yet another book. You threw the book on the bed and grunted as you fell on your back on the mattress. You were feeling frustrated. Éowyn had only visited you very briefly and you felt alone. In your hands you had your daisy brooch. You were gliding your fingers across the edges of the petals, thinking about home and Merry, trying to figure out just how you could get to him.

“He still hasn’t returned?” you asked Éowyn, who shook her head anxiously. “Do you think something has happened?”

“I don’t know,” she responded. “I just have a terrible feeling and the King is getting worse.”

You took Éowyn’s hand and squeezed it tightly. In your heart you knew her feelings were on the right path; you weren’t sure what was wrong, but something definitely was not right and Théodred would not come home anymore.

“I’m sure everything is alright,” you lied and rested your head on her shoulder.

You sat there with her in silence as she sobbed.

She told you about her uncle’s advisor, Gríma Wormtongue and how she was certain he was poisoning the King’s mind. She told about how her brother Éomer had been exiled a long time ago and how it was all Gríma’s doing. You had not yet seen the King properly. You had only seen his back weeks ago but even then you noticed how unwell he must have been.

“Gríma is the biggest reason we can’t have you outside this room unless you are being guarded by me or Théodred,” said Éowyn. “My brother had great reasons to believe that he is working for the White Wizard.”

“The White Wizard?” you echoed, your heart skipping a beat. Éowyn nodded.

“I don’t think it’s safe for you to be anywhere near Gríma, especially considering what your friend told you back near Isengard.”

It was true. You had eventually told Éowyn in great detail about Rath’s confession; how he worked for Saruman, and how there were rumors of a halfling carrying around something valuable and powerful. Now it was certain to you and Éowyn that it was Frodo they were after, but despite that if Gríma saw you, it would have been a death sentence.

“I will stay away from him,” you responded and gave her hand a reassuring touch. “If it is any consolation, I don’t desire to be anywhere near that poisonous snake.”

Those were rough words, but they made Éowyn smile and more relaxed.

“That’s good,” she said. “Now, I believe you never finished your story about the time your friends tried to help you with your fear of water?”

You smiled and bounced on your spot a little. You had eagerly been sharing some of the fondest memories you had with Merry and one specific one had been cut off short.

“Ah, yes!” you responded and crossed your legs, turning to face Éowyn properly. “It was less than a year ago. Merry and Pippin wanted to go for a swim and challenged me–”

“I’m sorry, I have to interrupt you,” said Éowyn with a toothy smile. This was the first time you had told his name. “Which one is the special one?”

“Oh, right,” you chuckled. “Merry. Pippin is our mutual best friend.”

“Merry, huh?” smirked Éowyn.

You had grown to see her as a big sister. She took care of you in many ways that reminded you of Frodo, but also in many new ways that made you very fond of her. You could not stop a smile forming on your lips as you spoke his name. Your ears fluttered; a tell that Merry had noticed but you were not aware of.

“Merry, yes,” you said. “Merry and Pippin challenged me. They wanted to help me conquer my fear, so they pushed my buttons until I started wading in deeper. I ended up having a massive panic attack.”

“That’s awful!”

“Well, yes. But eventually Merry managed to calm me down. He… held me. Later at home when I looked in the mirror I noticed he had snuck a daisy behind my ear. He knew I would appreciate the gesture and that it would cheer me up, even if he did it while I thought I was dying.”

Éowyn smiled as you chuckled. She admired the casual way you explained the whole scenario that felt terrifying at the time and she felt her heart swell when she realized how well Merry knew you; and how in love he must have been to have done such a thing.

“He seems special,” Éowyn said.

You smiled.

“He is.”

All the voices were unclear. The thick door muffled the sounds of the Rohirrim, but through it all you could distinguish the sound of Éowyn's cries and the cold voice of Gríma. It was certain; Théodred had fallen.

Your heart sank and you walked in circles. You did not want the realization of losing another friend hit you just yet.

But you couldn't stop it. Your legs gave out and with a quiet bang you dropped to the floor, tears streaming down your face and your fists clenched. Another piece of your heart was ripped out and desperation filled the empty cavity.

The wind was howling outside and the moon cast a gentle glow in your room, bathing it in a silvery light. You were restless, waiting for news from Éowyn. You did not know what it was, but something big had happened. Edoras was suddenly more lively and loud, and inside your room you could hear a handful of people talking day and night.

Finally Éowyn came through the door. She had a small bag with her that she tossed into your arms. It was heavy and filled with food, clothes and even medicine.

“We need to leave,” she said.

“What?”

“My uncle is feeling better,” she continued, while searching the room and bringing you more of your belongings to put in the bag.

“That's wonderful!” you cried, but Éowyn's face was one of anxiety and dread.

“It is, but war is upon us. All of us must leave at once.”

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“To Helm’s Deep.”

Chapter Text

Éowyn carefully lifted you on the back of the wooden carriage. It was a tiny space but as you were so small even for a Hobbit, you fit in there just fine. You peeked from under the pile of blankets she hid you under and looked at her, frightened.

“Am I going to be alright here?” you asked nervously. Éowyn gave you a supporting smile and patted the blankets more firmly around you, while still making sure that you were comfortable. She thought it was best to disguise you as a simple pile of blankets, instead of walking among everyone and drawing unwanted attention.

“You will be alright,” she said and held your chin delicately with her finger brushing across it. Her touch was gentle and comforting.

“Will you be here?” you asked.

“I have to go to my uncle and brother,” she responded and nodded towards where you could no longer see from under your hiding spot. You had caught a glimpse of her brother earlier and he gravely reminded you of Théodred, but he was much more alike to Éowyn. She had decided to keep you hidden from her brother as well, as she knew he would oppose dragging you to Helm’s Deep; he knew there was a risk she would pick up a sword and fight and possibly put you in danger as well. Éowyn noticed your frown. “But I promise you will be safe here.”

You gave her a faint nod and pulled a blanket over your head. You still had a small peek hole so you wouldn’t suffocate and so that you could look around your surroundings during the journey to Helm’s Deep.

It was an overnight trip to the Glittering Caves. You were rather curious to go see the fortress you passed with the women and children, but Éowyn had forbidden you; although she seemed like she wanted to see the fortress properly too.
From what you had learned while getting to know her, you knew she was a warrior; a shieldmaiden of Rohan, but she had to keep it all inside. She admitted nothing directly but you could see it in her eyes; she needed to fight for her people but she was not allowed to and it was swallowing her whole. It was Éomer who was the most concerned for his sister’s safety.

Slowly the carriage you were hiding in stopped. You pushed your head through the hole in the blankets and tried to get your eyes adjusted to your new surroundings. And what you saw was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes upon.

The Glittering Caves were something that was almost impossible to describe. The area you were in had a ceiling so high that you felt like your neck might break as you looked up. The walls were gleaming with crystals and gems of different colors, every ray of light making them sparkle and create alluring shapes on the cave walls.
Next to the walls and behind many corners were piles of equipment necessary for a long stay in hiding and seeing them made your stomach turn; how long were you going to have to hide in this cave?
No matter how ethereal everything you saw around you was, it was not enough to distract your thoughts. You wanted to get back to your friends as quickly as possible. Your heart grew weary thinking about them, as a fear had made home in your soul. You were starting to believe Merry, Sam, Frodo and Pippin were all most likely dead. War was everywhere around you and you knew your brother was being hunted for carrying something so valuable that the dark forces of Mordor wanted it more than anything else on Middle-Earth.

You hopped out of the carriage and gently folded the blankets on a nearby rock. An old woman to your left looked at you with curiosity, her large brown eyes fixating on your feet. You did not think much about it and assumed it was because you were not wearing shoes. The woman was wondering why your Hobbit feet were so hairy and large for such a small thing, but of course you never found that out.

You walked around, your fingertips brushing against the soft leather on your corset as you examined the caves and analyzed everyone’s expressions around you.
From what Éowyn had told you, you knew that the situation you were in was very dangerous but you wanted to see just how much truth was in it.
Some of the women were laughing and drinking small portions of water, seemingly loose and relaxed, while others were weeping and holding each other tight. You saw families holding hands and telling the others what they meant for them and how deeply they loved them.
You heard rather loud sniffling to your right and looked behind a large stone pillar. The pillar was covered in beautiful white crystals and behind it was a small boy.
His nose was red from all the tears he had shed, and his hands and lips were trembling uncontrollably. His blonde hair was short and tucked behind his small ears, and on his body were brown, partly torn clothes. Judging by his appearance you could tell that he was not as wealthy as some other families in the caves. You couldn’t help but get curious about why he was all alone.

“Hello,” you said in a quiet and soft voice, cautiously approaching him. He opened his swollen, red eyes and looked at you pleadingly. He was desperate. You sat next to him and put your hand softly on his back, stroking him gently. “Are you alone?”

The boy did not answer by words, but nodded and sniffled loudly again. He was pouting and his lips were still trembling, but his tears came to a halt.

“Where are your parents?” you asked, looking at him with compassion and concern. Your hand still on his back you could feel his fast and shaky heartbeat.

“I don’t know,” he responded, his high and shy voice cracking the more he spoke. “I don’t know where my daddy is. Mommy was never here.”

“Did your dad bring you here?”

“No,” he said, tears streaming down his cheeks again, snot dripping from his nostrils. “He gave me to a nice lady.”

“Do you know where she is?”

The boy shook his head and closed his eyes. He lifted his knees up and buried his round face in them, now loudly crying. His wails were full of confusion and hopelessness. You could tell he needed someone to be there for him and you knew there was a possibility that he would never see his father again. His father was outside preparing for battle and hoping to see his son again while knowing he most likely would not, and the small boy was sitting inside, his young heart aching for his dad.
You shuffled closer to him and put your arms around him, squeezing tightly. You could feel his rapid heartbeat slow down with time and a sense of security entered his body.

“Why are your ears pointy?” he asked, his finger tracing the outline of your ear. You chuckled and moved your curly hair behind your ears so he could see them better.

“That’s just how we Hobbits are born! Pointy ears and big feet.”

“What’s a Hottibit?” the child asked with an eager giggle. He looked at your ears again and pointed. “They’re flapping!"

You furrowed your brows ever so slightly and put your hand on your ear, feeling small vibrations for the first time in your life. You had never noticed it before, but now you began to wonder if your body had always reacted to positive emotions in that way. You opened your mouth to ask the boy about your ears and to explain what a halfling exactly was, when there was a loud explosion near the nearest entrance of the cave.
You turned your head so fast your neck cracked a little, making you hiss and hold the aching spot with your shaky palm. Your heart started to race faster than it had during your whole journey and a suffocating sense of dread filled everyone in the cave.
The small child whose thoughts you had kept occupied clung to your arm with all of his strength and you tried to push your surfacing panic attack back to the depths of your body to not scare him further. The boy felt your body tremble and let out a wail out of terror. You took his hand and squeezed. You felt like him: a helpless child wondering if death was knocking on the cave door and there was nothing you could do about it.

There were loud sounds for many hours more. Saruman’s army kept trying to break through the entrance of the cave but the Glittering Caves turned out to be much stronger than anyone had anticipated. Many men fell while defending the fortress and the caves, but the barricades were holding up.

You wondered for long if Éowyn had ever entered the Glittering Caves. You had tried to spot her many times, but could not distinguish her face from the large crowds. You had the small boy shaking in his sleep on your lap for hours and hours, until something got your attention.

A group of wounded people were brought to the caves from another entrance and among them you saw Éowyn taking care of a short, rough looking redhead.
You stood up carefully and covered the sleeping child with your cloak. It amazed you how deeply in slumber he was despite the sounds of swords, screams and horns outside. As you walked towards your friend, you had to step over many bloody, wounded men and young boys who had been injured or who fell during the battle.

“Can I do anything to help?” you asked Éowyn. Éowyn’s face lit up from relief when she saw your face and knew for certain that you were safe. She gestured towards a pile of medical equipment and asked you to find some gauze. You dug through the medical supplies and found a few rolls of the gauze she requested and handed them over to Éowyn.

“Can you wrap one of them around his ankle?” she asked and pointed at a man laying down next to you, his ankle swollen and his head bleeding profusely.
You got down on your knees next to his legs and started wrapping the gauze tightly around his swollen, bruised ankle for support. The man closed his mouth tightly to keep his screams of pain internal. You looked at his pale face and your gaze lingered on the blood that was covering his hair.

“I’m going to die,” the man panted as he noticed you stare at his head. You shook your head and finished wrapping his ankle.

“No, you’re not.”

“I am. I think I am bleeding to death.”

The man was visibly scared. He had held himself together on the battlefield but as soon as he entered the caves, wounded, his vulnerability surfaced and he found himself wishing he was a child again, at home and eating the delicious apple pie his mother used to make.

“Can I take a look?” you asked and crawled next to his bleeding head. He nodded and looked at you with a blank expression, though if you had looked close enough you would have seen the amazement in his eyes.

You carefully moved his hair around, separating it in sections to see where the source of bleeding was. The man let out a loud grunt and you found a deep 3 inch wound. The bleeding had mostly stopped and you exhaled out of relief. You did not know what you were doing, so it made you feel much better to see that there was nothing other than his ankle to worry about for now.

“What are you?” he asked bluntly as he turned his sweaty, bearded face toward you again.

“A Hobbit,” you responded, wiping some of the blood off his head with a clean cloth. “A halfling. Your head will be fine, your ankle will need time to heal and when this is hopefully over soon, we can take a better look at it.”

“Thank you,” he said after a short moment while still looking at you, amazed by your curious exterior. You smiled at him and stood back up, throwing the bloody cloth in a pile of dirty and unusable equipment.

In the distance you saw Éowyn take care of an annoyed looking and a rather short man that you had quickly taken a glance at earlier. Although, soon you realized he was no man. He was a dwarf. Muscular he was, but also had some weight on him and his red beard was long and tangled.
You observed them from afar and a small smile spread on your face when you heard the dwarf loudly complain to Éowyn. He kept insisting he had to go back outside to battle. You wondered why and how one of his kind had found his way into Helm’s Deep to fight among men. You turned around and walked back to the little boy you had been taking care of, who was still sound asleep but trembling.

In the distance Gimli tried lifting his head up and as a lot of women and children were walking by, he caught a glimpse of you.

“Huh?” he grunted loudly and managed to sit up properly.

As far as Gimli knew, the only halflings outside the Shire and Bree were Frodo, Merry, Pippin and Sam. And as far as his knowledge went, none of them should have been anywhere near Helm’s Deep. He tried to locate you from where he was sitting but you had already disappeared around a corner. He exhaled loudly, his breath raspy and rough.

“What is it?” asked Éowyn.

“Nothing,” he mumbled. He was not sure who he had seen and hoped it might have been one of the four Hobbits he knew. All he saw was curly hair, large-ish feet and pointy ears on someone small, but he concluded he must have been seeing things that were not really there. “Maybe I hit my head.”

“I have never been this excited to have pipe-weed before, Pip,” Merry declared as he was resting on the rocky surface.

Merry and Pippin had found Saruman’s stash of the finest pipe-weed from South Farthing, Longbottom Leaf. They did not take a moment to think about why the Wizard had any, but they did have many moments together to appreciate the fact that they got their hands on it; never in their lives had they smoked so much in one sitting.
Around them were such large amounts of water that they had to climb up to stay dry and both Saruman and Gríma were held prisoners on top of the Orthanc.
Treebeard was taking care of the Wizard and his accomplice while the other Ents were focusing on guarding and restoring Isengard.

“I think we should save some for her,” Pippin said and gave Merry a teasing nudge.

“We should,” he finally responded. A seed of hope had finally planted itself in Merry’s heart. After the destruction of Isengard and the successful rousing of the Ents, he had finally started to believe that there was a small chance that they would make it back to the Shire alive and well. “I can’t wait to tell her about this.”
Pippin smiled but kept his thoughts to himself. He felt joyous as he heard Merry’s words that were so full of hope; his best friend was finally feeling genuinely better.

“Me neither,” Pippin responded.

Pippin suddenly felt Merry’s foot kicking him and as he looked towards the Fangorn Forest, he saw a group of men approaching them on horses and among them were familiar faces. Merry and Pippin laughed and loud cheers erupted from their lungs. Merry stood up and spread his arms wide.

“Welcome, my Lords, to Isengard!” he yelled victoriously, his head fuzzy and a large grin on his face. Pippin was giggling loudly, his eyes barely staying open.
Gimli yelled at Merry and Pippin for the pain they had caused them and lectured them about the worry the two had put him through. It did not take him long to start gushing about how relieved he was to see them alive and Aragorn had an amused look on his face. Legolas was chuckling loudly at the sight and Gandalf looked stunned by the damage Isengard had suffered. Théoden and Erkenbrand were looking at the Hobbits with curiosity, for they had never seen a halfling before.

“I believe you were looking for someone?” you asked a tall, slender man as he turned around. His eyes widened as his son was next to you, gripping your hand tightly. Miraculously the little boy’s father had survived the Battle of the Hornburg and you spotted him in the crowd after noticing the uncanny resemblance the two had.

“Daddy!” the boy screamed with a loud giggle and the teary eyed father took him in his arms. He kissed his cheek multiple times and the relief on his face was one of such intensity you had never seen anything like it before.

“My boy!” he cried, squeezing the boy so tightly that you worried he might suffocate him. He turned to look at you with a wide smile full of gratitude. “Thank you!”

“He slept through most of it,” you said with a shy smile. You gave the boy a small pat on his head. “He was a real trooper.”

“Thank you,” he said once again and kept embracing his son, both of them laughing and slowly relaxing from the relief that washed over them. You left them alone and walked away.

Around you were many families reuniting and smiling, but there were also hundreds of tears being shed as so many men and young boys who were dragged to battle had fallen. Your heart was heavy when looking at them and as you saw a young, dark haired boy embrace his younger sister, your knees started feeling weak. You were filled with sorrow and fear once again but more than that, you began missing your brother.
You sat on the stairs in front of the outside of Meduseld and propped your elbows on your knees. With your palms pressed under your chin, you closed your eyes.
The wind was warm and the grass had begun growing green. March was upon you and your hope of seeing Merry, Frodo, Pippin or Sam again was fading.

Your thoughts wandered back to when you were growing up in Bag End. You thought of all the stories Uncle Bilbo told you and Frodo, and how much more adventurous Frodo always seemed to be; and how much you aspired to be more like him.

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes, only to see the back of someone curly haired. Wrapped around him was an olive green coat and he was not wearing any shoes.
Your heart dropped and you sprung on your feet, running towards him. You put your hand on his shoulder and turned him around forcefully. An unknown boy's blue eyes were staring at you wide and disappointment rushed through your body.
You had started to miss Merry so much you thought the strange boy was him. From afar he looked a little like him but your broken heart had exaggerated his looks to be much more similar to Merry. When you looked at him close and the realization sank in, you noticed that he didn’t look much like him at all.

“I apologize. I thought you were someone else,” you said and the boy turned around, still puzzled by your rough touch.

With a deep sigh you walked back to the stairs and entered the building. You made your way through Meduseld and full of sorrow you entered your room, closing the door loudly behind you.

Merry was sitting behind Éomer on his horse and his heart was aching from departing from Pippin. Merry was making his way to Edoras and Pippin was on his way to Gondor.

“What an idiot,” he muttered to himself.

Pippin had not been able to control himself from looking inside the Palantír and Gandalf in unison with Boromir had decided to take him to Minas Tirith, since the Hobbit had miraculously seen a part of Sauron’s plans. It was a fortunate strike of sheer luck. The goodbyes with Pippin were devastating to both and he feared for his best friend, for he did not think Pippin could make it on his own. Merry sighed. “At least he’s not alone.”

Éowyn entered your room with a big smile.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” she said. You didn’t respond and as she saw the look on your face she rushed to your side. “What is wrong?”

“I want this all to stop. I want things to go back to how they were.”

Éowyn’s heart was full of pity as she looked at the desperation on your face. She took your hand and stroked it gently with her thumb.

“It will pass. You’ll find your friends.”

You nodded even though you did not believe a word she said. Your heart was aching to be near Merry. It had been so long that you had forgotten the pain you were in when he left you behind. The pain no longer mattered. You understood the danger and his reasoning, but missing him was tearing you apart.

“I miss him,” you said, breaking into tears. Éowyn’s heart shattered a little and she pulled you into a tight embrace.

She held you in her arms for five minutes before you finally started to calm down.

“You’ll see him again,” she said and brushed your hair with her fingers, calming you down with her best ability. “You’ll find Merry. You’ll find your brother and your friends. I promise.”

Of course Éowyn did not know if she could keep that promise, but her first priority was to keep you comforted and safe. She could still not be entirely sure if it was safe to let anyone know more about you and the only people who knew there was a halfling in Edoras were the people you had talked to and the ones who accidentally spotted you. You were now walking more openly around Edoras but because of your small size, not many people paid any attention or even saw you walking around.

“I am thirsty,” you muttered against Éowyn’s shoulder. She looked at you and brushed some dirt off your cloak. Your cloak also had many visible spots of blood on it from helping Éowyn take care of some of the wounded.

“You’re also dirty. Come, let’s get your cloak and dress cleaned up.”

She gestured to you to follow her. She left the room to give you some privacy and while she was waiting, you changed into your own clothes you had on you when you were brought to Edoras. You took your golden brooch off the dirty dress and put it on to decorate your clean clothes.

You carried the pile of dirty laundry in your arms until you reached the outside of a small house, slightly down the hill Edoras stood on. There were many other clothes waiting to be washed and next to them were many swords and helmets waiting to be cleaned up from the blood of all the fallen and injured men.
You folded the dress neatly, put your cloak on top of it and after a moment of consideration, you took the daisy brooch off your dress where you had just put it. The brooch was also covered in dirt and needed some touching up. You were afraid you would destroy it if you tried to clean it yourself, so you saw this as an opportunity to finally make it look like its worth. Carefully you put it on top of the dark, dirty cloak.

“When will I get these back?” you asked.

“I’m sure you’ll get them back soon. I can ask them to hurry if you want to,” Éowyn responded.

“Oh, no!” you cried with a gasp. “Don’t do that. I’ll be alright waiting!”

Éowyn smiled and put her arm around you gently.

“Come on,” she said and you two walked back inside Meduseld. The wind howled in your pointy ears and the warm sun was warming your arms as you climbed up the hill.

Inside the golden hall she sat you down on a small step and brought you some bread. She had taken notice of how pale and malnourished you looked.

“Thank you,” you said and took a bite of the soft wheat bread. Éowyn sat down next to you. In silence you enjoyed each other’s company and the victory at Helm’s Deep.

“My Lady?” said a guard from across the room. Some golden light poured in through the open door and as you looked through the gap, you noticed all of the clouds had faded away and there was a clear blue sky outside. The man bowed. “The King has returned from Isengard.”

“Stay here,” Éowyn said and gave your back a gentle rub. She stood up speedily and disappeared through the large doors.

As the doors closed and the sunlight that was flowing in through the door disappeared, darkness surrounded you. It was not that there was no light; there were candles all around you, but it was being left alone that made the darkness creep up on you. Éowyn was the closest thing to home and being around her made you feel safer than you had felt in six months. Everytime she left your side you began nervously twitching and your fingers began playing with your hair or the lace of your corset.

Éowyn was not gone for long. After approximately ten minutes she came back through the doors and rushed you up.

“I did not have time to go down the hill and talk to my uncle,” she said as you two started walking towards the hall where your room was. “I think he needs to know about you so he can determine if it’s safe for you to start moving around here normally, but I will go and find Éomer. My uncle is a busy man and my brother I hear has returned also, so I will go for his advice first. I think it’s now safe to tell him you are here. At least that is what the guard you just saw told me.”

“Will I get to meet him?” you asked with an excited look on your face. You hopped on your feet a little as Éowyn nodded. You had heard many nice things about Éomer and for weeks you had been eager to meet the man. You understood the less people knew of you the better, but you still wished he knew of you already since his sister had made him sound so kind. “What did the guard say that made you so certain it was now safe for me?”

“He did not say much more, but I have faith in his words. Now, if you’ll just wait here, I will go ask him to bring my brother here and later on I will go greet Lord Aragorn, assuming that he has also returned.”

You smirked. You had heard Éowyn speak of this Aragorn before and every time she mentioned his name, a pink blush spread across her face.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said with a knowing look.

Soon Éowyn came back to the hallway and this time her brother was with her. You had only seen a glimpse of him before, but now there was no mistaking that they were indeed from the same kingly bloodline.
You opened your mouth, excited to say hello, but the two siblings stopped at the doorway. Éomer looked at you and then started talking to his sister in a language you only understood a few words of. It took only a minute before Éomer left the hallway and went back outside. You looked at Éowyn, confused.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked, frowning.

“Not at all,” she said and put her hands on your shoulders. “He said that he needs to consult the King first. He did not say much but he did seem intrigued by your sudden appearance.”

“Why do you think that is?” you asked, furrowing your brows, looking at the doorway where Éomer so quickly had turned away.

“I do not know, unfortunately. We’ll know more soon enough.”

You had thought about it before, but the moment Éomer turned away the sadness hit you; you began feeling like an obstacle, a burden. Were you in everyone's way? Were you slowing things down?

Merry’s feet were heavy and dragging them up the hill felt like a chore his mother had forced him to do. Éomer had ridden his mighty horse up the hill, all the way to Meduseld and Merry was left there walking alongside Gimli.

“You know, I thought I saw you there,” Gimli said, scratching his beard.

“What?” Merry asked, slightly out of breath.

“I was forced to go in this - oh, you have to see them! They’re these beautiful - just wonderful - oh, I’m getting off topic and rambling. I was in a cave and could have sworn I saw you or some other Hobbit walking in it! Turns out I had just hit my head and was seeing things, but it was a few seconds of certainty that someone pointy eared passed me.”

Merry let out a chuckle and took off the cloak the Elves in Lothlórien had gifted him, and soon followed by taking off his coat as well. The sun was burning him and the layers of clothes he had on started to feel too hot. His trousers were only up to his knees now that he had grown so significantly and his shoulders were more broad, making his olive green coat feel too tight around him. His back and head were sweating as he walked up the hill of Edoras.

As they started reaching the top of the hill, Merry noticed Éomer putting his helmet on the ground, next to some bloody body armor and swords. He had little to no knowledge on what had happened in Helm’s Deep, but seeing the many bloody helmets and chain mails he got a rough idea.

“Your coat is dirty, Merry,” Éomer said and pointed at the clothes Merry was carrying. “If you want to, you can leave them here to get cleaned up.”

Merry nodded and started walking towards him. Éomer looked at Gimli up and down and smirked.

“What?” Gimli grunted.

“You probably should leave some of that armor and clothing here too. It might need some touching up.”

“We dwarves don’t-”

“Where did these come from?” Merry asked in sudden distress.
He was pointing to the dress that was folded on top of all the other dirty clothes and his eyes were fixed on the familiar looking cloak. On his hand was a golden brooch, representing a daisy. His eyes were wide and his heart felt like it was going to jump out of his throat as anxiety filled him. He recognized the clothes and the brooch. They were certainly yours, but there was blood on them and now dread took him over.

“What?” asked Éomer, confused. Gimli looked at the golden flower in the Hobbits hand and tried to desperately understand why Merry was suddenly panicking over a gold brooch and some clothes.

“Are these all from people who were in the battle?” Merry asked, clearly frustrated that Éomer was not reading his mind and answering him as fast as he wanted him to.

“They’re-”

“Are these all from injured people?” Merry asked, raising his voice in desperation, gripping the brooch tightly, his free hand still pointing at your clothes.

“I don’t think so. Not all–”

“Where did these come from?” Merry asked, his voice demanding and his hand shaking. Éomer’s eyes were spreading wider every passing second and Merry’s shaky breath was making him concerned.

“They were there when we got here,” he responded to Merry. Merry was breathing so heavily that his chest was visibly bouncing, now concerning Gimli with his sudden temper and distress. “I think they belong to another of your ki–”

“Is there another halfling here?” Merry asked. “Please, I need to know. Is there another Hobbit here?”

“Merry-”

“Is there another Hobbit here?” Merry echoed.

“Yes. I just saw-”

“Where?” Merry asked, his tone desperate, face pale and pupils dilated.

But before Éomer could show the way to your exact location, Merry was already running. His fist was clutching tightly around the brooch and he could hear the blood rush through his veins. His heart was beating unevenly and his head felt dizzy, making his steps clumsier. All the voices around him were muffled and he could not hear when Gimli and Éomer called after him. There were small rocks flying around his feet as he ran through the gravel and he almost stumbled down the front steps of Meduseld. He did not feel the stone warmed by the sun burning under his feet as he burst through the large front doors of the Golden Hall.
His footsteps echoed as he paved his way through the hall as fast as he could, pushing the brooch inside his pocket. All he could hear was his own heartbeat as he rushed to the first direction he felt called towards. He passed the throne of Théoden King without as much as taking a look and soon his palm was on the door between the Golden Hall and the hallway to your room.

You were standing outside your door in the hallway. Éowyn was leaning against the wall and smiling at you fondly, kindly trying to distract your thoughts from blaming yourself too much.

“My brother does not see you as a burden!” she said in a comforting, slightly amused voice. “He has not even met you. He just has a lot on his mind.”

“I suppose,” you responded. “I think it’s just that-”

Neither you or Éowyn had time to hear the hurried footsteps approaching the hallway and before you could finish explaining your emotional struggles to Éowyn, the hallway door burst open.

His yellow vest suited him as much as it did the day he had left. His curls were still framing his boyish features beautifully, though the hair had more length to it now. He was significantly taller than he was the last time you saw him and his brown trousers were barely to his knees. On his forehead was a scar that had barely begun to heal and it was partly covered by his hair. His blue eyes were sparkling like a starry night sky as he stood still on the other end of the hallway, staring at you, wondering if he had entered a dream.
It felt like an arrow pierced your heart painfully, before a lightning bolt entered through the arrow’s head and filled you with hope and disbelief. A wave of shock ran through your body from head to toe and your heart skipped yet another beat.

Merry and you stood there for a small moment, neither of you moving an inch. The shock of seeing each other there, standing in a hallway all the way in Edoras was making both of you feel paralyzed. If a heartbeat was loud enough for humans to hear, Éowyn would have heard how fast your hearts were going, but she would also have heard how they were on the exact same beat.
You didn’t dare to move. You were afraid that if you took a step, blinked or turned your head for even just a moment, he would disappear and you’d never see his face again. And then Merry blinked.

Before your brain could follow, you were taking large steps, stomping towards Merry who still couldn’t move. As you approached him you felt your throat dry up and your eyes water. Your ears were ringing and it felt like your heart was going to beat out through your chest. Your whole body felt like it was boiling from all the emotions that rushed through you as you got closer and closer. The disbelief, anger, hope, relief and frustration were all mixing up together in you and you were not sure what emotion would be the first one to float out of you.
Merry started walking forward, his throat dry and his face expressionless. He only had time to take a few steps towards you before you were standing right in front of him.
Both of you stood still. You looked up at him, mixed emotions burning up inside your heart and trying to burst out of your chest. Merry looked down at you and deep in your eyes. In his eyes were all of his emotions: the guilt of leaving you behind and finding you outside of the Shire, but also joy, love, disbelief and a new kind of hope.
Your emotions bubbled through and an angry grunt escaped your throat. You put your hands on his chest and pushed him, nudging him back slightly. You looked at him intensely, tears dwelling in your eyes.

“I thought you were dead!” you cried. Your voice cracked from holding back tears and a handful of emotions, and you shoved him again. It was not violent in the slightest: it was a relieved, angry and loving push.

Merry stared at you, not saying a word. You stared at him, lips pouting and eyes full of anger and affection. His head tilted slightly as he looked down at you, his blue eyes visibly glowing. Your ears were still ringing and feeling the fabric of his vest under your palms a few seconds before made your hands shake. He was real. He was there.

Merry kept gazing into your eyes longingly for a few seconds more, before he took a step forward and cupped your face with both of his hands. He pulled your face near his and closed the distance between your and his lips. As you felt the softness of his lips pressing against yours, your heart fluttered, the ringing in your ears stopped, and was replaced by the fastly racing beating of your heart. You stood there without moving, eyes closed as he kissed you for the first time, your knees weak and electricity running through you and him.
Merry broke the kiss and pulled his face back, gazing down at you, guilt ridden. His hands were still making home softly but firmly on your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” Merry cried, his voice trembling. “I’m so–”

You got on your tiptoes and swung your hand softly behind his neck, pulling his lips back to embrace yours. Merry responded to the kiss eagerly. His other hand caressed your cheek, his fingers twitching against your skin and the other one he wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer and against him tightly.
His lips were slightly chapped after everything he had gone through, but the passion of his kiss drowned every imperfection to the unknown. With every small, tender yet intense movement either of you made, you could feel the longing for each other being released into the kiss. Your breath hitched and you pulled him in closer, his nose pressing against the warm, flushed skin on the high point of your cheek. You and Merry poured out the days, months and years of pining on each other’s lips, before finally pulling ever so slightly apart to catch air.

“I– Merry-,” you said quietly, gasping for air as he rested his forehead against yours. Both of your eyes were closed as you tried to make sense of everything that was happening, and it was impossible to wrap your head around any of it when he had taken your breath away. “Merry.”

You had no other words to say. All of the months without him, all the anger from leaving you behind and all of the fear for his safety were drained away as his lips locked on yours. The whole world around you and Merry faded away. For a short moment there was no one else in the hallway but you and him, no war outside and nothing to be afraid of. You were finally back in his arms.

Chapter Text

He was finally in your arms, his breath warming up lips and his forehead resting against yours.
“I– Merry,” you said quietly, trying to catch your breath. “Merry.”

Merry's breath was shaky and uneven, his fingers were still trembling as they brushed softly against your cheek and his other hand was resting on the small of your back. Merry was trying to find the right words to say, but all he could muster up out of his mouth was a faint, shaky whisper of your name.

“I think you two could use some privacy,” suddenly said a high voice familiar to you, snapping both you and Merry out of your bubble.

You and Merry both opened your eyes and looked at Éowyn, who was smiling at you two softly. You gulped and nodded, unable to speak. Merry bowed deeply to Éowyn, an apologetic expression on his face. Éowyn excused herself once more before she left you and Merry alone as you two were still holding each other, but no longer under the spell of a reunion.

“Have you seen him after that?” you asked Merry, who shook his head grimly.

As far as he knew, Frodo and Sam had left the fellowship at Parth Galen to continue their journey towards Mordor alone. Hearing about all of the struggles Merry, your friends and your brother had gone through broke your heart. The burden you now knew your brother had to carry frightened you.
Merry told of his difficult experience with Pippin, when they were captured by the Uruk-Hai and taken near Isengard. He spoke of it only on a surface level, brushing all of the details under a rug, not wanting to relive the pain.

“Is this where you got that?” you asked, looking at the scar of his forehead. The scar was very visible when it wasn't hidden by his curls. It had not yet healed properly and it seemed like it would leave a mark of his struggles on his skin forever.

“It is,” he nodded. His eyes were full of trauma and pain as he softly squeezed your hand. “I apologize. I don't… It's hard to talk about.”

“Merry, you don't have to talk about anything you're not ready to discuss,” you comforted, squeezing his hand back. You wanted to give him as much comfort as possible, but there was still a fire inside you fuming at his abandonment back in fall. The anger had sunk away when his lips embraced yours, but now that the magic of that moment was slipping away, the frustration was surfacing back.

Merry was gently brushing against a scar on your arm with his free hand, his thumb tracing the length of the wound.

“What happened?” he asked carefully.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you responded quietly, looking down at your feet. “I do not want to burden you more.”

Merry furrowed his brows and put his free hand on your other hand.

“You could never burden me.”

You lifted your gaze and looked at Merry. He was visibly struggling seeing you in so much pain. His soft expression and gentle squeeze of hands made your heart flutter, but the anger of being left behind was swiftly making its way out of your body. You took a deep breath to keep yourself as much together as possible.

“Merry, you left me behind,” you said, gazing into his eyes, the pain returning to your heart and soul. Merry's heart shattered from the wave of guilt that ran over him. “I needed you. All of you. I was completely alone.”

“I'm more sorry than words could ever express,” he responded with no hesitation. His heart felt so heavy he could barely handle it. The only comfort for him was holding you close. “I should have been more forward with you, but we decided it would be the best you did not know.”

“I deserved to know,” you said, squeezing your lips together to hold yourself back from raising your voice.

“I know,” he responded, almost whispering as he tried not to break down and cry from his wrongdoing. “We just wanted to protect you. Especially Frodo and I. I could never forgive myself if my desire to be around you caused you any harm.”

“Well, it has caused me harm, hasn't it?” you snapped. Merry frowned and his apology sank back down his throat. He did not know how to respond; he knew now you had been not only emotionally hurt, but physically too. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “I'm sorry. It’s just… I'm overwhelmed and not sure how to feel or what to think.”

“If you need to let out your anger at me, you are more than allowed to do so. You should. I deserve it. I-”

“Merry, please don't.”

“Abandoning you like that… It was one of the worst things I could have done.”

You did not respond. His words were heartfelt and sincere, but he had still broken your heart by leaving you alone. And yet, when you looked into his eyes and saw the desperation, your heart began to melt.

“You were not the only one who made me feel abandoned,” you said finally and Merry turned his eyes back to you, his heartbeat heavy in his chest. You tilted your head as you gazed into his eyes, trying to offer him some sympathy and understanding. “It was not only you. It was Pippin, Sam and Frodo also. It is not fair of me to put all of the blame on you. Especially when I know you did it just to protect me.”

The corners of Merry's eyes got wet as tears of relief rose into his eyes. But guilt was still burdening his whole being.

“Yet, I should not have done it. I'm sorry.”

“I know,” you responded with a faint smile and squeezed his hand.

Merry and you exchanged longing looks and a shy smile tugged in the corner of his lips as he gazed to the side of your face.

“What?” you asked, lifting your eyebrow.

Merry did not respond, but with his free hand he caressed your right ear carefully, his fingers gliding from the pointy tip to your earlobe, his eyes sparkling from adoration. You felt heat rise to your cheeks and the tips of your ears suddenly felt like they were being burnt in the fires of Mount Doom. His touch made you feel like you were in a hazy dream. Your kiss earlier had not felt real as the memory of it was buried under a wave of shock from reuniting, but his soft caressing ignited the memory and deepened the blush on your face.
You tried to suffocate your nervousness as you glanced at his lips, craving for their embrace on your own, but your fingers started trembling as you realized just how close Merry actually was.
Merry looked down at your intertwined fingers and brushed your thumb calmingly with his. He turned his eyes back to you, his smile softening into one with more compassion and he leaned in a little closer, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

“Merry?” said a low voice that snapped both of you out of your intimate moment.

The door to your bedroom was open and leaning against the doorframe was a tall man whose hair was up to his shoulders, and his dark clothing was covered in dirt.

“Yes, Strider?” said Merry in a raspy voice, clearing his throat and his tone slightly frustrated from the interruption. Aragorn smiled fondly at Merry. The way the Hobbit used the name he was introduced as as they first met warmed his heart.
Aragorn did not notice you at first, but when you peeked from behind Merry, he looked at you with curiosity, before a toothy smile spread on his face as his gaze drifted to you and Merry holding hands.

“I did not expect to meet another halfling on these parts,” he said and smiled at you fondly as he introduced himself. “I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn.”

You stood up, bowed lightly and introduced yourself to him.

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” you continued with a gentle smile. “Merry told me about you just a moment ago.”

“All good I hope,” Aragorn joked.

“All exceptionally good,” you smiled.

“Éomer wishes to talk with you,” Aragorn said, looking at Merry. Merry gave you a soft, caring look as he stood up. He put his hand on your back and gave you a gentle rub.

“Will you be alright?” Merry asked.

“I'll be alright,” you responded.

“I'll be right back.”

“And I'll be right here,” you said with a gentle smile, your voice almost a whisper.

Merry returned after a half an hour, scratching his head.

“Well?” you asked as he sat down next to you on the bed.

“Everyone, including the King, is riding towards Gondor and Minas Tirith starting tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you responded with a small frown. “I assume we are going to have to stay behind?”

“I'm afraid so,” he responded. “I wish I could ride with them. I am no warrior but I am ashamed to be left behind.”

“Ashamed to be left behind, huh?” you poked at him, making Merry's heart pinch from guilt.

“Oh. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-”

“It's alright. I'm joking. Partly, anyway,” you said with a quiet chuckle. “I'll get over it. It's not like you were trying to kill me, unlike Rath.”

“What?” Merry asked, his expression turning into one that was deeply serious.

“I forgot I didn't tell you,” you said, mouth gaping open. “I'm so sorry. I was trying to lighten the mood!”

“What happened?” Merry asked firmly.

And so you shared every detail, even though earlier you were reluctant about telling Merry anything, for talking about Rath again and again was painful.
You told Merry how you passed out somewhere in the middle of nowhere and his eyes were dark with guilt. There was a small curl upwards on his lips as you went back in your story and told him of how much deeper in water than ever before you had gone all by yourself. Merry made sure to call you brave as you told him how during the early winter Rath had taught you a little of how to swim.
You talked about your first kill and how it was still eating you inside, even if it was just an Orc. You feared Merry would judge you, but there was only compassion to be found in his eyes.
The injury on your ankle caused Merry to examine and lightly touch your ankle, sending shivers down your spine and drying up your throat.
When you mentioned the white mark of Saruman you saw on Rath’s armor, which he presumably must have not been wearing the morning he was killed, Merry frowned; he realized just how close you had been to him and Pippin, but more importantly how close to a deadly danger you were.
When you mentioned Rath thinking the brooch Merry had given you for your thirty-third birthday was the One Ring, Merry interrupted you and started digging through his pocket.

“Here,” he said and handed over the brooch he had picked up outside. “I forgot I had it.”

“Why do you have it?” you asked, taking it in your own hands and examining the still dirty jewel. “I left it in hopes it would be cleaned.”

“Yes, I saw it outside. I recognized it and realized you were here. Though the blood on your dirty clothes made me fear you were here but no longer alive.”

You gave Merry a half-smile and lifted the brooch on your chest level to start pinning it back on your dress, ignoring the dirty state of it.

“Here, let me help you,” Merry said and reached for the brooch. As his fingers brushed against yours you felt your heart begin pounding faster and as his hands neared your heart when he pinned down the daisy, your mouth opened slightly and a quiet, nervous gasp left your lungs.
Merry's other hand went back down but the other he kept on the brooch, softly looking into your eyes as he held his hand near your rapidly beating heart. His blue eyes were sparkling with admiration and yearning as he looked at you, and his heart was aching for you.
Merry swallowed and slowly slid up his hand to the nape of your neck and pulled you closer in a tender motion, bringing his lips only inches away from yours.

“Is it alright if I kiss you again?” Merry asked in a quiet plea, his nose touching yours as his eyes fixated on your lips. You nodded and he closed the gap between you, his lips brushing softly on yours.

His kiss tasted like the high you were on when the two of you smoked pipe-weed together on the rock rising above the cornfield, and his fingers on your neck made your breathing so heavy you feared you might run out of air. Your right hand climbed from his arm to his shoulder and then to the back of his neck, pulling him into a more firm kiss as you let the mutual pining drive the moment.
Merry put his other hand on your cheek, and in no time you felt Merry smile into the kiss as his fingers caressed your heated ear. You let go of the back of his neck and moved your hand gently on top of his, caressing the side of your face along with him, before pulling his hand off slowly and breaking the kiss.

“Tell me,” you said quietly. “Why do my ears make you so amused?”

Merry let out a heartfelt chuckle.

“They don't amuse me,” he responded and softly brushed his fingers over both your ears. “They entice me.”

“Why?” you asked, a confused giggle leaving your mouth.

“All of your emotions; your ears expose them.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Merry smiled wider and caressed your cheek, and then your ear again as he looked at you adoringly.

“Well, when you feel flustered, happy… they flutter. It's captivating and rather adorable.”

“What?” you cried and snuck your hands under his and over your ears, blushing from this new revelation. “No they don't!”

Merry put his hands on yours and gently lifted them off, not wanting you to cover your ears.

“Please, don't feel ashamed of it,” he said tenderly, squeezing your hands. “It's one of my favorite things about you.”

“I didn't know! Why didn’t you tell me?

“I did try to tell you once. Remember? I told you you have a tell.”

You let out a small whimper and hid your ears again. Merry snickered.

“They also give away when you feel sad or anxious,” he smirked and you squealed, pressing your palms more firmly on your pointy ears. Merry shook his head and his expression was full of care. He put his hand under your chin, his thumb caressing your skin and he lifted your face ever so slightly. He said nothing, but in his eyes was such fondness and warmth that your hands slipped off your ears and a smile crept back on your face.

You were swinging your feet under the table as your chair was not Hobbit-sized. Merry was sitting next to you, smiling to himself as he put some more food in his body. Théoden King was sitting next to Merry and his presence was making you rather nervous, but having Merry back was pushing the anxiety aside.
It was like the day flashed before your eyes when Merry knelt in front of the King and offered him his services, holding his sword. Your eyes widened and your heart dropped. You knew he would have felt ashamed to be left behind as your friends had gone to battle, but now he was doing it; and without you!

“Rise now, Meriadoc, esquire of Rohan,” said the King, his hands upon Merry's hair, blessing him. “Take your sword and bear it unto good fortune!”

“As a father you shall be to me.”

“For a little while.”

Merry sat back next to you and you looked at him, almost furiously. He didn't look at you as he continued to eat his food.

“I suppose there is no way to keep you out of riding to danger with me?” Merry asked.

“Absolutely not.”

Merry smiled and under the table he wrapped his pinkie around yours.

“I wouldn't have it any other way,” he responded.

Merry was petting the back of the light colored pony, trying to set the saddle on him. The pony's coat was grey and unkempt, and the face of him was friendly.

“Hello, Stybba,” you said in a calm manner, slowly petting the long bridge of the pony's nose. Théoden had assigned the pony to Merry and you, but Stybba seemed to prefer your company over Merry's.

“He seems to like you,” said Aragorn as he passed you and Merry, stopping to pet Stybba. The pony gave Aragorn a soft nudge, painting a gentle smile on the Ranger's face.

“I would hope so,” you responded, caressing the pony. “Riding with him might be a struggle otherwise.”

Aragon chuckled softly.

“Indeed,” he said and turned his face to Merry. “He does like you too, Merry. No need to be disappointed.”

You looked at Merry and noticed a small pout on his face as he struggled to steady the pony. You stepped next to Merry and put your hand on his back for reassurance. Merry blushed and there was a knowing glint in Aragorn's eyes.

“Ride carefully,” said Aragorn and gave the pony one last pat before mounting his own horse.

Merry sighed from relief as he finally had Stybba at the ready.

“Finally,” he muttered and mounted the pony, swinging his right leg over Stybba. Merry offered you his hand to pull you to sit behind him. He lifted you up with ease and you sank to the saddle right behind Merry, his back pressing against your chest. Your ears fluttered discreetly as you wrapped your arms around him.
You were not wearing body armor unlike Merry, who had been provided with a red protective leather suit of armor with golden details. Over his armor was a rather curious looking cloak, which had been given to him by the Elves in Lothlórien. The cloak provided you with some physical comfort, as otherwise holding Merry over his armor felt a little stiff.

“Are you comfortable?” Merry asked with a gentle tone, looking at you over his shoulder.

“Comfortable enough,” you responded and adjusted yourself more pleasantly.

“You are aware that I am rather anxious because of your lack of armor, right?” Merry asked, his gaze shifting to your body, which lacked any protection from enemies.

“I am,” you said and felt your cheeks flush as his eyes roamed your body. He was just looking after you, but his eyes on your body made you suddenly very aware of yourself and the way you looked. You cleared your throat. “But I'm sure we will figure something out.”

The low rumble of the Horn of the Mark rang through the air and in a matter of seconds you were surrounded by hoofs striking the ground. Somewhere in the distance Éomer had given words of encouragement for the Rohirrim, but he was too far for the speech to reach your ears.
After a painful amount of minutes Merry finally got Stybba to move forward, but it did not take long for most of the riders to gallop past you as the pony was rather slow.

The bread was not much, but your stomach felt pitless and at that moment you felt like you could eat a pile of it the size of a horse.

“Are you feeling any better?” Merry asked. You looked down at your hands which were still shaking from your low blood sugar.

“Slightly,” you responded and ate another piece of bread.

Merry smiled and shuffled next to you as you two were sitting inside the tent.

“You can have some of mine,” he said and offered you a sizable piece of his own food. You shook your head vigorously.

“Absolutely not!” you cried and pushed his hand back. “You need to eat more.”

“Alright, alright!” Merry responded and put his hands up in surrender.

You and Merry sat there eating in silence and stealing shy glances. Merry’s hair was messy and under his eyelids were dark circles from the lack of proper sleep. His feet were covered in dirt and his shoulders looked more broad than ever under the leather armor.

“Can I ask you something?” you asked Merry.

“Of course,” he said and gave you an encouraging smile.

“Why are you suddenly so tall?”

Merry erupted in laughter and you snickered, but there still was a curious and puzzled expression on your face.

“Éowyn?” you asked, peeking into her tent.

“Yes?” she answered with a smile on her face. “Come in.”

“I have something I would like to talk about,” you said and entered, making sure you spoke quietly enough no other soldier could hear, as it was a sensitive subject.

“Seems quite serious,” she said and patted the seat next to her, gesturing to you to sit down. “You seem troubled. And quiet.”

You sighed and sat down next to her, pondering how to pick the right words.

“I do not believe I will be allowed to go to battle,” you frowned. “And I very much want to. I need to.”

Éowyn took your hand and with her hand she caressed it.

“Why would you be refused?”

“Well, I am quite small. Even for a Hobbit. I have no armor or a weapon. Nor am I a man.”

Éowyn analyzed your expression, compassion and understanding in her eyes as she looked at you. She stood up and nodded outside.

“Come,” she said.

“Where?”

“Just come,” she said and walked out of the tent.

You followed her and past a few soldiers was another tent, filled with spears and swords. You walked to the weapons and traced your fingers on the edge of a smaller sword, pouting as you touched it.

“I think this is the only one suitable for me,” you said. “And it's not even sharp.”

Éowyn walked to you and picked up the sword, examining it and giving it a swing. The movement caused a quiet schwing and she handed you the sword. Your arms dropped down slightly from the weight of it, but you gathered your posture and looked at Éowyn with a concerned face.

“I do not know if I can handle this,” you said with a sullen look on your face. Éowyn let out a compassionate chuckle.

“You only need it to protect yourself. I can teach you. Now, go see the blacksmiths and get it sharpened.”

“But-”

“To the smithy! Go!” she chuckled and gently pushed you outside. You smiled and swiftly moved towards the tent of the blacksmiths. You did not notice you passed Merry, who was sitting by a fire talking to fellow soldiers. He looked at you as you hastened past him. Merry followed your every step with his gaze, his heart swelling with admiration for your determined attitude.

Darkness had filled the tent you and Merry were staying in. The stars outside were veiled as darkness started to set over Middle-Earth and your anxiety grew. Merry told you of Aragorn and some others leaving for the Paths of the Dead.

“That sounds horrifying,” you said. You were many feet away from Merry, itching to lay near him.

“From how much Théoden King has told me, I get shivers just thinking about it. Poor Aragorn. Poor Gimli. And poor Legolas!”

“Now, I'm curious,” you said and turned on your side, propping yourself on your elbow, ready to direct Merry’s thoughts elsewhere from the approaching dangers. “How has it been fighting aside an Elf?”

“No curiosity for the Dwarf?” Merry smirked. “Is it the looks? I cannot blame you. Legolas is rather ethereal.”

You giggled.

“I have missed your banter,” you whispered and Merry's heart skipped a beat.

“I have missed you.”

Early next morning you were woken up by Merry poking your side.

“It is time for us to go,” he said as you rubbed your eyes with your fists.

“Alright,” you answered groggily and Merry pulled you up from the ground. You stretched and put on the small chainmail Éowyn had provided you with after you got your newly claimed sword sharpened. The chainmail clinked and your posture shrank from the weight of it, making you sway as your balance weakened. Merry steadied you with his hands on your shoulders.

“Are you sure of this?” he asked, hoping you would stay behind out of battle and danger.

“Of course I am,” you answered and stood up as straight as you could. “This will just take some time to get used to. I want to fight.”

Merry nodded and you followed him out of the tent where Stybba was waiting for the two of you.

Around you were many men mounting their horses and adjusting their armor. There was sizzling of the campfires being put out and many horses were already on the move. Everything was hectic and the atmosphere was pressuring, making your heart race. Many men had grey faces and frowns on them, some visibly afraid.
Through them towards you and Merry rode King Théoden, a serious expression on his face as he looked at the two of you. His royal appearing horse came to a halt next to Stybba.

“Little Hobbits do not belong in war, Master Meriadoc,” said Théoden, looking at both you and Merry. Merry’s heart sank. “As my last command you shall keep her safe and out of danger. Now, I release you from my service.”

“All our friends have gone to battle!” Merry cried. “We would very much feel ashamed to be left behind. I want to fight.”

“It is a three day gallop to Minas Tirith and none of my men can bear you two as a burden. Stybba cannot keep up with the pace of the horses of my men. We cannot slow down under any circumstances.”

“But-,” stuttered Merry, “can you not, like, tie us on the horses or something?”

You gave Merry a raised eyebrow, slightly amused.

“I will say no more,” said Théoden and gave his horse a small kick with his foot to get him moving.

Merry gave you a defeated look.

“I… I cannot believe this. Pippin, Frodo and Sam have all gone to fight. Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli too. And we are left behind!”

Merry’s disappointment grew and he paced back and forth, almost furiously.

“Merry-" you tried to interrupt, but Merry kept going.

“I'm ready to run all the way to Minas Tirith if necessary!” Merry cried. “Stybba is slower than many of the horses, but-”

“Merry,” you said, hand on his shoulder and he finally started to calm down. “We are going.”

“We have been ordered to stay behind,” he pouted. You gave him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder.

“But we will not stay behind. Come.”

You led Merry through the galloping Rohirrim and into a large tent, where a tall, slender soldier was adjusting his helmet.

“Why are we here?” asked Merry and the rider turned to look at Merry.

“You shall ride with me,” he said and walked outside with you two. Merry looked at you, confused and you smiled knowingly. “I shall hide you two under my cloak the best I can. Come on.”

“Thank you, sir,” Merry said and walked fast behind the young soldier. He turned to you and whispered: “Who is this and what have you planned?”

“Dernhelm promised to take us with her- him. We shall ride to Minas Tirith. We are going to fight.”

A smile so wide you had never seen spread across Merry's face and he started trembling from excitement.

You two mounted the large horse and sat in front of Dernhelm, Merry in the front and you in the middle. You gave Dernhelm a knowing look and got a nod in response.
You held your arms around Merry’s waist tightly as the two of you were bouncing slightly on the galloping horse, fearing you might drop off any time. Dernhelm held onto you with one arm, every now and then brushing his thumb on your arm to give you some more comfort. The two of you had an agreement you would not tell Merry of Dernhelms's true identity. Neither of you wanted to risk getting caught by Éomer or Théoden.
And so the three of you started to ride towards Minas Tirith.

The ride was long and exhausting. Your head kept falling against Merry’s back as you fell asleep repeatedly. It did not bother Merry; he in fact preferred to have you so comfortable and close to him.
The mountains were mighty and tall, every day looking more threatening as the darkness over Middle-Earth kept spreading. You woke up to the loud neighing of horses, your left cheek pressing against Merry’s back, his armor creating a swirly pattern on your cheek. You lifted your head and noticed night had come. The lack of stars made the surroundings feel more threatening and you kept clinging to Merry until he nudged you as a sign to hop off the horse.
You lowered yourself down carefully with the assistance of Merry. He held you by your waist and steadily put you on the ground despite his own exhaustion and inability to fall asleep while riding. Even as your feet were touching the grass, Merry kept his hands on your waist and turned you around. He looked down at you and brushed off some stray curls off your face.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, holding his other hand on the back of your head and the other on your waist, making you feel rather shy.

“I’m alright,” you said, yawning. “I slept like a log.”

“That I can see,” he said and smirked as he caressed your cheek. “Your cheek looks like it was made from the same material as my armor.”

You tested your cheek with the tips of your fingers, feeling the swirling pattern deeply burrowed into your skin.

“It appears so. I hope I didn’t snore.”

“You did not. You just flinched any time I moved but immediately smacked your lips loudly and fell back to deep sleep.”

“Oh,” you said and blushed at his teasing words. Merry scrunched his nose at you and guided you towards a more isolated spot around the camp that was being set up.

You plopped down on the ground, watching as Dernhelm was settling down the horse. Most of the riders were setting down the camp and some were distributing food. You leaned against a large rock with Merry whose arm was still around your waist. He lowered his head down on your shoulder and shut his eyes, immediately drifting off to a peaceful slumber. You looked at Merry’s face and thought of how much closer you wanted to be to him, even though you were sitting your sides squeezing together. You pressed your cheek on his head, looking around the camp and viewing everything that was happening with increasing curiosity.
Merry snored lightly, your urge to tease him when he woke up rising. The urge to tease him about his loud snoring sank away as quickly as it arrived when Merry began muttering your name and smiling in his sleep, while wrapping his other arm over your stomach. Your ears turned pink and the tips of them flapped like wings for a little while, although you did not notice it.

“I can’t feel my arm,” Merry mumbled.

“Huh?”

“I cannot feel my arm,” Merry repeated, his voice groggy and you noticed his arm had been resting between you and the rock for a while now.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” you responded and leaned forward, releasing his arm from captivity.

“It’s alright,” he said, voice low and his tiredness obvious. Half asleep he tightened his grip on you as he was still holding his other arm over your stomach. Your heart fluttered and you wrapped your own arms around him, pulling him closer.

“Rest as much as you can,” you whispered and lowered your chin on the top of his head as he cradled into your arms.

“Mhm,” he mumbled. “I can’t wait to have eating contests with you when we get home.”

You snorted. His sudden confession amused you but your heart sank a little, as your hope in returning home had almost completely disappeared. You let out a deep sigh and caressed his back.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I can’t wait.”

“Much love,” he whispered, confused and croggy as he fell asleep. You held back laughter at his tired, seemingly random words and allowed yourself to doze off as well.

You slowly moved Merry from on top of you. He stirred in his sleep and let out a disapproving grunt before getting into a comfortable position and resuming his dreams. You stood up and stretched your limbs before making your way to Dernhelm, who was like you and Merry sitting isolated from everyone.

“Éowyn?” you asked quietly and Dernhelm took off his helmet, revealing the long golden hair of the Shieldmaiden of Rohan in disguise.

“Yes?” she responded and ruffled her hair.

“May I sit with you for a while?”

“Of course,” she said and you sat down beside her on the grass. Éowyn put her hands under her long hair and waved them around, trying to cool down her neck and head. “I think this is the most my head has ever sweated. This helmet is rather uncomfortable.”

“I do not feel jealous of that,” you snickered and Éowyn offered you some water from her bottle. You drank just the tiniest bit before trying to hand it back to her, only for her to refuse and force you to hydrate more.

“You need to keep yourself in good shape,” she said. “That includes being hydrated and fed.”

“Alright mother,” you smirked and she laughed, her high voice ringing in the air. A few heads of men turned from afar and Éowyn quickly put her helmet back on, returning to her disguise as a slender male warrior. You looked at her with a compassionate smile. “I really appreciate you doing this with me and Merry.”

“I know how it feels,” she said. “Not being allowed to battle. My uncle and brother refused me, but I know my heart belongs here. I want to protect my people.”

“You impress me, Éowyn,” you said and she raised a brow. “I look up to you. You’re like a sister to me.”

“And you to me,” she said and leaned in to give you a warm hug. You pulled her close tightly, embracing her like your life depended on it. She pulled back and looked at you, tilting her head with worry. “Are you alright?”

You did not respond immediately. It was hard for you to admit; fear that is. Every step the horse galloped and every breath you took, the closer you were to war and the fear inside you rapidly increased.

“The truth is I’m afraid,” you confessed. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but a part of me really wishes I stayed at home. I am more than honored to fight alongside you, Merry and everyone else, but I do miss the safety and comfort of my own bed.”

“It is only natural,” Éowyn comforted. “But you have a lot of strength and courage in you. You just have to keep embracing it and not fall back at the edge of the danger.”

“Merry is so brave. I feel embarrassed that his fear is not faltering and my heart is filled with slowly approaching terror.”

“I do not know if in reality this is any consolation, but may I offer you some words of comfort?”

“Please.”

“I believe in both you and Merry. I think you have more courage than you are aware of.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, slightly taken aback by how much faith Éowyn put in you and Merry. After all, you had begun to feel like you were just a little Hobbit who had wandered into the wrong place, but her words made you feel like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

The Horn of Rohan rang and Théoden ordered everyone to keep moving in an instant. There was at least a day more of travel ahead and the road had to be traveled as hastily as possible.
Merry snapped out of his dream and his first instinct was to look for you. His gaze traveled around but he could not see you and he started to fear you had somehow managed to get hurt.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” you said behind Merry, startling him. He put his hand over his heart, trying to slow his heartbeat before pulling you into a tight embrace. You wrapped your arms around him and asked: “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is alright,” he smiled and pulled away from the hug. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

You smiled fondly and shook the nervous tension out of your body, pressing your lips against his cheek as you got on your tiptoes to reach him.

“Let’s go then,” you said and Merry followed you to the horse with a wide smile on his face. Éowyn, disguised as Dernhelm lifted you two on the horse, resuming the road to Minas Tirith and towards war.

Chapter Text

It felt like every other step the horse took, a tree branch smacked you across the face. No matter how much you tried to dodge the twigs; another scratch formed on your skin. If you pressed your face down; there were leaves tickling the top of your head. Your small grunts of frustration could be heard by everyone who was riding their horses near you. Merry stretched his arm back a little to give your knee a supportive squeeze whenever he noticed any discomfort in you, but eventually even he got irritated by the tough path everyone was traveling through, and he too groaned whenever a branch made his skin sting.

There was still quite a bit of road ahead, but with the lead of King Théoden and some newly found unknown allies, you all took a more discreet route instead of traveling down the main road. Unfortunately, this meant difficult terrains and rough paths.

“Not much longer until we can rest,” Éowyn whispered in your ear. “Please try to hold on.”

“This is frustrating. I am all scratched up!” you complained quietly back to her.

“Just a little more,” Éowyn encouraged, slightly lowering her tone when she realized Merry was listening.

“Dernhelm, you can see her?” Merry asked quietly.

“Yes, Merry. Why do you ask?”

Merry tried to turn his head to see your face, but he could not move his body quite enough without discomfort.

“Would you please take a quick look at her scratches? I don't want her to get wounded,” he said. Your body felt like it went limp for a few seconds as a wave of affection rushed through you.

“Of course,” she said and called your name. She gently examined your face as Merry held the reins. After she made sure you were nothing more than a little scratched up, she spoke again. “She seems alright. Nothing to worry about, Merry.”

“Thank you,” Merry responded and squeezed your knee again. You pressed your cheek against his back and he could feel your affectionate smile even through his armor.

Your own armor had become more of a burden than useful. It was heavy on you and too big for your figure. You thought you would have gotten used to it by then, but every passing second it felt heavier, and you began considering tossing it aside completely.

You shifted your position, trying to get more comfortable and the clinking of the chainmail got the attention of a nearby rider.

“Getting heavy there?” he asked and you nodded, feeling more and more exhausted from holding the chainmail's weight. The man was maybe closer to the King in his age, and he had a few greys here and there in his beard. His green eyes seemed as desperate as any other soldier's, but behind the desperation, they seemed to be holding in a spark of hope and joy.

“Very much so,” you responded to the rider.

There was a silent agreement with everyone who had traveled near you to keep the presence of you and Merry quiet. They knew how important it was for you both to ride to war with them, so they helped to cover up for you the best they could and at times were even chit chatting you and Merry on the long, difficult road.

“You might still want to hold onto it,” he said quietly, but his tone was firm; almost commanding. As your eyes locked on his, you saw a hint of concern in them. It felt like he was reading your mind. He looked at you for a long time before resuming: “You don't want to get hurt out there. It's better for you to have some form of protection, little one.”

You gave him a tiny, wary nod. Your body was tired and you just wanted to rip off the heavy metal off your body.

Your thoughts kept circling back to the sense of relief losing the chainmail would bring, but every time you turned your head to the ground to see where you could possibly stop and get rid of it, the rider's eyes locked on yours and his firm gaze kept you in your senses. You needed the armor.

“I am going to pass out,” you whispered as the darkness surrounded all of you, the lack of rest consuming you, while everyone was riding onward slowly but securely.

“We'll get to rest soon,” Merry said, his tone heavy with worry. “Please, just hold on for a little more.”

“I can't stay awake,” you muttered, fighting a losing battle with your eyelids.

“You can sleep, just do not faint,” Éowyn said softly. She scooted closer to you and so did Merry, making you fit more securely between their bodies.

“Are you certain?” you asked, eyes already closed.

“Yes, sleep now. We will wake you when we come to a halt,” Éowyn said.

And with that, your head hit Merry's back, your cheek squished against his armor and your arms went limp around his waist. Merry took your arms in his lap and held you tightly, even though it made it significantly harder for him to keep his balance in check. He wanted to smile as he felt your warmth against him, but his mind and heart were consumed with worry for you and for his friends.

“Hey,” said Merry softly, as the tip of his finger was poking your thigh. You let out a disapproving grunt before he poked you again. Merry's voice was gentle and almost paternal. “I'm afraid you need to hop off the horse with us and get some proper sleep.”

You sat up straight and rubbed some of the sleep out of your eyes.

“What time is it?” you asked, yawning.

“Late,” Merry responded and hopped off the horse. As he landed on the ground, he reached up and took your hands in his, steadying you before helping you on the ground. His heart fluttered as he felt your delicate hands in his. “But we are almost out of the woods now. Back near the main road.”

“Is the ride long?” you asked as you started scanning for a place to lie down. Merry guided you down to a small secluded area away from the largest groups of riders.

“Not so long. We are closer to Minas Tirith than I would have thought,” Merry responded and sat you down, carefully keeping your sleepy body steady by the small of your back.

“How come?”

“You see that?” Merry asked and pointed through the trees, where in the distance was a small ball of fire.

“Is that Minas Tirith… on fire?” you asked, nearly panicking and Merry could not hold back a soft, amused chuckle.

“No, no. It is not. It's the hill of Amon Dîn and that is their beacon. At least according to Elfhelm.”

You nodded, half asleep and clueless.

“Of course,” you responded, trying to appear at least slightly awake and aware.

Merry sat down next to you and looked at you, his lips finally curling up into a wide smile. He admired how the soft light of a nearby campfire created dancing shadows on your face that made your eyelashes look even longer than they really were, and how your lips pursed slightly when you pressed your head on his lap. His heart skipped a beat when you cradled up into his lap, but almost instinctively he put his arm around your back and began stroking your hair to soothe you back to sleep.

“Dernhelm?” Merry asked quietly as Éowyn walked past.

“Yes?” she asked, smiling a little as she saw you curled up into a ball in Merry's lap. She found herself puffing her chest slightly when Merry looked her way, hoping it would somehow make her disguise as Dernhelm more believable to the young Hobbit.

“Is it far?”

Éowyn shook her head. Merry gave her a small nod before turning his gaze back to you. Éowyn observed you two for a few more seconds before walking away from you to get some rest, and to give you and Merry some privacy. Merry sighed and admired your sleepy, peaceful face. Your rosy cheeks were partly covered in faint scratches from the tree branches and he softly caressed his thumb over them. You let out a soft, quiet groan of disapproval.

“Is something wrong?” Merry asked.

“You stopped,” you mumbled back with a small pout.

“Stopped what?” Merry responded, confused, as he tried to analyze your face for any clues on your sudden disapproval.

“You stopped caressing my hair,” you pouted, barely aware. Merry's cheeks flushed from affection, and he immediately brushed a stray strand off your face and resumed combing through your hair delicately with his fingers.

“I'm sorry, my lady,” he whispered with a smirk. “It won't happen again.”

“Good,” you mumbled and gave him a tired, approving nod.

“You know,” Merry whispered after a while, caressing your curls and moving them behind your pointy ears. “You would look rather beautiful with a daisy behind your ear right now.”

He had a big smile on his face despite you not hearing him, as you had fallen into a deep sleep in his comforting embrace.

You flinched as the loud sound of the horn of Rohan reached your ears. Merry had fallen asleep with his arm on your back and the other one was still resting on the top of your head, likely left there from dozing off while caressing your hair.

“Merry?” you said, sitting up. Merry stirred and stretched his arms. His eyes were half-lidded, and he turned his head left and right, dazed from his deep sleep.

“Hm?” he mumbled.

“We need to keep going,” you said quietly.

“How long did we sleep for?” Merry asked, his voice low and heavy with tiredness. “I am still feeling exhausted.”

“Not long,” responded Éowyn with her low tone, still disguising herself in front of Merry. “A few hours at most.”

Merry nodded and stood up, stumbling on his tired feet. The chainmail on you felt heavy on your weary body, and Éowyn had to help you up on your feet.

“Are you sure you can–” Merry started.

“Yes,” you responded, cutting him off mid sentence. Merry gave you an understanding nod, but his heart was in turmoil; in that moment he feared for your safety more than anything and a small part of him had hoped you would change your mind before arriving at Minas Tirith.

The horses were moving forward faster than before, and the sound of the horses galloping forth was filling the otherwise quiet air.

You narrowed your gaze and scrunched your nose. A nasty scent spread all around you and your stomach made a backflip.

Smoke.

“I smell smoke,” Merry stated quietly. You gripped his leather armor with your fist, slowly trembling as fear crept up your back. Merry tried his best to keep himself in check and seem courageous, but his fingers were shaking as you approached Minas Tirith.

Screams.

“Merry,” you whimpered quietly and reached for his hand. He instinctively searched for yours and squeezed it tight.

“I know,” he responded.

You closed your eyes and swallowed loudly. Your knees began to feel weak and it was not only the chainmail that was pulling your body down; fear was making your body limp, though the muscles on your arms tensed up. You opened your eyes as the horses began to slow down.

Flames and smoke.

You closed your eyes in an instant and let go of Merry's hand, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist again. Your heart was thumping in your chest, and Éowyn too could feel it as she was pressed against your back, her body tense from fear.

The sound of clashing swords. Screams of terror.

Your ears began to ring. Your body began to shut down, every other sound drowning away, but the sound of your own rapid heartbeat.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Your ears perked up and your eyes flew open.

“Death! Death! Death!” everyone roared, their swords and spears in the air. You felt Merry raise his arm, his battle cry rumbling against your chest.

“Death!” Merry cried along with the many men and Éowyn. Your throat was too dry to make a sound. And then the horns blew again, seeding courage into the men of Rohan.

Slowly, led by Théoden King, the horses began to gallop, their speed growing faster and faster. From the distance you could see spears and arrows pointed towards your direction, each and every one of them held by orcs, each uglier and scarier than the other.

“Death!” roared Éowyn behind you and her sword swung through the air, taking an orc out swiftly.

Some men and horses fell down to your left, loud tumbling filling the air. Spears clashed against each other as the horses began running the orcs over, taking them down one by one.

To your right you saw a spear piercing through a horse's chest and an arrow taking down the soldier riding it.

Thump. Down.

You looked to your left and saw the rider, who had been so concerned for your safety, take a tumble with his horse, both crashing to the ground. As you looked over your shoulder at the man, there was no more hope or joy in his green eyes. There was nothing.

Another one down.

You clung to Merry more tightly and he was swinging his sword in every direction he could, as fast as his body allowed him to move. His heart was beating fast, distractingly fast, but his mind was set on protecting you at all cost.

You heard a roar from an orc, and before your brain had a chance to comprehend what was happening, your arm was already gripping your sword, pointing it towards the source of the roar and piercing the creature with a loud swoosh and splat.

Thump.

The orc was down.

Your eyes widened as you pulled back your sword and saw that it was covered in black blood. Your hand trembled as your head was filled with images of the orc lying on the ground all those months ago when you were protecting Rath with all the courage you could muster.

You could not move for a while. You held your sword with your right hand and with your left you clung to Merry, your knuckles turning white. All around you were the burdening sounds of war and death. The air smelled rotten and smokey, the chainmail on your body felt more heavy than before and your heart was beating so rapidly you feared it might burst out of your chest.

You looked up at the white city, the first layer of it burning, the front gate busted to dust. Loud cries of women, men, children and orcs were rumbling through the air, and in the sky you could see creatures that looked like they crawled out of your darkest nightmares; they looked like dragons, but much more terrifying and you could only describe them as an omen of death.

As one of them let out a screech far away, you instinctively felt the need to cover your ears to muffle the horrible sound that pierced your ears; the sound that felt like it emptied your soul. You let go of your sword and Merry and pressed your hands firmly on your ears. Your ears were quivering with fear and your hands were cold. You thought about the first time you had heard those cries; back in Buckland, when Merry, Frodo, Sam and Pippin had first left for their journey.

And you thought of your dear friend Pippin, who you knew was somewhere in the layered white city in front of you; the city that was starting to get covered in flames and death, and in your heart grew a fear that Pippin might not make it.

‘Poor Pippin!’ you thought. ‘Poor Frodo. and poor Sam! I wonder if they’re alive at all. Is there any hope left?’

Before you had time to give any more space to those thoughts, there was an almost deafening low rumble near your ears, announcing itself and its purpose to destroy.

Thump. Rough ground hit your back.

The horse that was just beneath you let out a loud whinny before getting crushed with a sound that you could never forget.

Éowyn screamed your name. She screamed Merry's name.

But there was no response from Merry; and no response from you. You were laying there in shock, overstimulated by all of the sounds and movements around you, fear darkening your vision and your back hurting severely from the fall.

‘Why is he not answering?’ you thought.

You sprung up on your feet and dodged a few horses that ran past you. Your eyes widened and your knees buckled as you saw a large oliphaunt, harnessed with red banners, charging towards your direction, making it clear it was what brought down the horse the three of you were riding. On top of the Mûmakil were war towers, and on them spearmen and archers, each more terrifying than the other.

You stumbled to your left and the large creature stomped its way past you and towards other soldiers. Your breathing was ragged and your legs quivered in fear; you could not see Merry or Éowyn anywhere. All you could see was people facing their demise and the chaos that was surrounding them.

Your eyes scanned the battlefield relentlessly. There were splintering spears and clashing swords, enemies like you had never seen before, and many faces you had seen before - and many that you had not - laying lifeless on the ground, and around the field were spots of ground that were covered in black and red splatters of blood.

There was a round rumbling sound behind you and a crash so loud followed, that you felt your heart stop. Dust and sand spread in the air and blinded you for a moment.

You rubbed the specks of dust out of your eyes and when you opened them and turned around, you could see a large oliphaunt lying dead on the ground. For a split second it felt like Eru himself had laid protective arms over you, for you could not comprehend how you got so lucky the oliphaunt did not crush you to death.

You turned around again, desperately seeking for Merry with your gaze.

“Merry!” you yelled, your voice raspy and faint from the fear in your heart and the dust in your lungs. “Merry!”

Your eyes widened as you saw an orc sprinting towards you. Its eyes were wide and green, with vertically slit pupils that it used to pierce right to your very soul. The orc's body looked like it was thrown in a bath of boiling water with sugar, and then thrown into a puddle of mud afterwards. As the enemy charged towards you, your knees buckled again. You took a few quick steps back and landed on your back, having stumbled on something.

You could not believe your luck. It was your own sword you had dropped a moment before when you fell off the horse.

The orc screamed in a high-pitched tone before your sword cut its cries short, piercing through the orcs throat and making it fall limp on the ground next to you, a gurgling noise coming out of its mouth.

Your stomach twisted from the sound and you felt sick; but this was not the time to stay there and linger in dread.

You sat up as straight as you could, wincing as you started to climb back on your feet. Your heavy armor kept pulling you towards the ground and it limited your ability to stand up, let alone fight. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest.

“Screw this,” you muttered to yourself in desperation.

Your palms and fingers hurt from pulling the chainmail off, but the second it hit the ground with a clang and a thump, you felt lighter and less fearful. Moving was easier and very swiftly you made it to your feet, the ground steady beneath you.

“Merry!” you screamed again. No response.

You saw a glimpse of a helmet you thought might have been Éowyn's, so without a second thought, you were already running.

Another cry from an orc caught your ears as it ran towards you, but swiftly you took it down, its legs giving up under your quick reaction time and the pierce of your sword. Your feet pattered on the ground and the wind howled in your ears. You called Merry's name and you called Éowyn's, but there was no answer. And she was nowhere to be seen anymore. But you kept running.

It was quick. Suddenly you were at the grumbled gate of Minas Tirith, dodging arrows and crawling by people's feet. It was one of those moments when you felt glad about your small size; you mostly tended to go unnoticed past the enemies, and the ones that saw you, fell to the ground fast.

The stone beneath your feet would have been cold to touch, had it not been taken over by the battle and Sauron's army. Now the lower streets of Minas Tirith were hot and burning, the smoke making it hard to see forth and forcing you to keep crawling at times in order to move forward.

“Merry!” you called out again, but all you could hear were unnatural sounds from orcs and trolls, the screams of dying soldiers and the cries of helpless people, forced to face their doom.

You ran up a street, not seeing two feet in front of you. Your fingers crossed you went forward, hoping to find Merry, Éowyn - or even Pippin; anyone who could give you comfort and a sense of security. And more than anything, you needed to see they were alright.

The smoke was making you cough uncontrollably and your eyes were stinging and watering. Finally you stepped on stone that felt a little cooler than the others as you made your way closer to the next level of the city.

You gasped for air as you finally pushed through the smoke and made your way above it, onto a platform. You looked around through a misty vision and tried to search for any familiar faces through your growing desperation, but it was no use.

Nipping pain.

Merry was crawling on all fours, eyes closed and his body trembling in fear. His mind was set on finding you, but he could not get his body to respond. The large shadow passing over him felt too overwhelming and both his head and body refused to follow his orders.

And then he heard a strange noise. A high-pitched, almost proud laughter.

“No living man am I!”

As he opened his eyes, he saw her. There was Éowyn, her hair golden and her eyes sparkling with bravery, yet grim with an acceptance of death.

In front of her stood the Witch-King, large, terrifying and dark, and he made Merry's blood cold. He was standing there, speechless as in front of him stood a woman, threatening to smite him if he laid his hands upon what Éowyn held the dearest; King Théoden.

The black figure swung his flail at Éowyn, and though many she dodged, one stroke fell on her shield and splintered it, along with it her arm.

Merry's heart was full of pity, fear and determination. He could not allow her to die, not alone. She meant a lot to him; and even more to you. He thought of you and how much you meant to him; how much he hoped you were alright; and how much he hoped you would forgive him, for he was certain he was now facing the end.

He crawled quietly behind the dark figure, lifted his blade and struck.

With a deafening screech the Witch-King crumbled down to his knees and Merry's right arm fell cold.

“Éowyn! Éowyn!” Merry cried, and the shieldmaiden pierced the enemy with her sword. The Witch-King of Angmar withered before them and all that was left was an empty helmet and cloak.

Éowyn fell unconscious before Merry, and he did not know if she had died. Whether or not, in front of him was also lying Théoden King, death in his eyes and blood in his mouth. Merry crawled up to him, to the man who he had started to see as a father, tears in his eyes, his gaze darting between the King and the pale, unconscious shieldmaiden of Rohan.

You looked to your right and the orc lifted its sword again. You swung your own weapon so quickly the orc did not have time to defend, and with a loud crash it fell through rubble and onto the street below you.

You touched your lower belly and winced. Something did not feel right.

The cries had quieted down. Some of the most courageous ones were still fighting, but many enemies had either retreated or had been slain. Many soldiers, good and bad, were lying dead on the battlefield and the streets of Minas Tirith.

Merry did not look at them. All he could do was try and stay awake; his arm had gone numb and cold, his eyes were misty and his brain was in an overdrive. Were you hurt? Was Éowyn dead? Were Pippin, Boromir and Gandalf safe inside the walls of Minas Tirith? Or was everything lost?

He was following other people who carried the King and Éowyn towards the upper levels of the city, but at some point he absent mindedly made a turn to an alley, where to his surprise and joy, he ran into Pippin.

“Merry! Thank goodness I've found you!” Pippin said, his heart lighter and his eyes lighting up from relief. He was wearing a black armor, decorated by the white tree of Gondor.

“Pippin?” Merry asked, tears in his eyes.

Merry stumbled into his arms, hugging him with his working arm as tight as he could and Pippin helped him to sit down.

“Gandalf sent me to look for you when you didn't arrive with the others. I am so glad to see you again!” Pippin said, hugging him tightly. He pulled back slightly and looked at him, worried. “But are you hurt? Are you wounded?”

“No,” Merry stammered. “Maybe. I can't feel my arm. I can't use it at all. Not since… Where… where is she? It's all going dark again, help me, Pippin!”

“It's alright,” Pippin reassured and put one of his arms around Merry, lifting him up on his feet. “Come now! Foot by foot. It's not far.”

“Are you going to bury me?”

Pippin's heart filled with pity and fear.

“No, Merry. I'm going to look after you. We are going to the houses of healing.”

They walked the streets of Minas Tirith together and Pippin quietly listened to Merry, who was mumbling to himself; mostly mumbling your name. Pippin’s heart twisted and stomach turned. ‘Poor Merry,’ he thought. ‘Still feeling burdened from leaving her behind.’

“Pippin!” shouted Boromir as the two came to his view and he quickly ran towards the Hobbits. He kneeled in front of Merry and touched his cheek gently, trying to get eye contact with him. “Merry, can you hear me?”

Merry did not respond vocally, but he lifted his gaze to Boromir. He felt the urge to smile, but he felt too weak to do so. Merry had missed him dearly; like a big brother he was, but his arm was burdening him and it felt like death was trying to claim him.

And suddenly Pippin pat Merry's shoulder.

“Merry?” Pippin asked in distress and shock. Merry looked at Pippin and turned his gaze to the direction his friend was gesturing at.

Merry’s stomach turned and a surge of adrenaline pumped through his veins. He sprinted off of Pippin's and Boromir's grasps.

“Merry!” Boromir called out and before he had time to do anything, Pippin was running after Merry.

Merry knelt beside you and with his uninjured arm he lifted your head on his lap.

“No, no,” Merry mumbled, his heart shattering at the sight. When he got your head comfortably on his lap he reached his hand on your wound, blocking the bleeding the best he could. “It's alright. You're alright.”

“Merry,” you gasped through your tears. “Please, help me.”

“You're alright,” Merry said, visibly panicking. Pippin knelt down on your other side, looking at the blood leaking out of your stomach, his eyes widening in horror. He thought you were safely in Buckland.

“Boromir!” Pippin called. Boromir made his way beside you and he too kneeled down, a confused look on his face.

“Who is–”

“Help her!” Pippin begged. Boromir nodded and ripped a part of his cloak off, pressing it on your wound to slow down the bleeding. You winced from pain and more tears poured from your eyes.

“You're alright,” Merry repeated. He couldn't manage to say anything else; he needed to reassure you and himself. “You're alright.”

“I'm going to die,” you sobbed, gasping for air, while your brain was fuzzy from the shock and your ears ringing from the pain. Your fingers were cold in Pippin’s hands as he held to you, trying his best to provide some comfort.

“You're not going to die,” Merry said, his voice cracking. He put his hand on your cheek, firmly, but with care. He gazed into your eyes with a stern look. “You're not allowed to die.”

You nodded, though your vision was growing more blurry. You looked up at the sky and noticed there was a twinkling, bright star showing for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. A small smile crept up on the corner of your mouth as you gazed at the sky above, gasping for air again, your chest heaving raggedly.

“I've heard much about you, Miss Baggins,” Boromir said suddenly, trying to soothe down your nerves, hoping to calm Merry and Pippin down in the process.

You chuckled through your tears of pain and fear. “And I of you. Boromir, son of Denethor, I presume?”

“What gave it away?” he asked with a soft smile.

“You look like a true soldier,” you responded. His smile would have comforted you, but you could see it in his eyes; he was certain you were dying. You looked back up at the sky, your heart pounding faster from fear.

“You're alright,” Merry said again, his voice cracking from dread. He turned to look at Pippin and Boromir. “Is… is there… she needs help,” he stuttered, tears in his eyes.

“Gandalf is coming,” Boromir said, but his tone was not reassuring. “He said he would follow me right behind.”

Merry nodded, trying to find relief in Boromir's words, but as he looked back into your eyes, his relief was long gone and he began to feel hopeless.

“You're alright,” he said again.

“Merry,” you stuttered, tears falling from your eyes as you whimpered in pain. Boromir pressed your wound harder and you let out a loud cry of pain. “Merry, I'm going to die. And I….I…”

“You’re not going to die,” he said, his tone desperate and his last bit of bravery crumbling. He had now forgotten about his own pain completely, his mind consumed by looming grief.

“I…”

“I know. You're alright,” Merry said and ran his hand through your hair tenderly, his eyes wet and his gaze pleading desperately. “You're not going to die.

You swallowed as your vision started to blur more.

“I don't want to die,” you said, your voice barely a whisper now. Merry let out a sob. Pippin closed his eyes, crying silently, his heart growing heavy with fear.

“You're not going to die,” he said, lips quivering. He moved his hand to caress your cheek again. “I promised Frodo I would keep you safe.”

You tried to get a word out, but your mouth had gone dry and it took all of your strength just to stay awake. You focused your gaze solely on Merry, and you squeezed Pippin's hand weakly. Your ears were ringing loudly.

“Boromir, do something!” Pippin weeped, and Merry's fingers trembled on your cheek. Boromir kept pressing the wound; it was all he could do.

“You can't leave me,” Merry whispered through tears. You said nothing as your vision grew more hazy and your grip on Pippin's hand weakened. Pippin looked at Merry, falling apart, trying to hold your hand harder, hoping it would somehow give you enough strength.

“Merry!” Pippin panicked.

“Please, don't go,” Merry begged in despair and held your cheek more firmly, caressing it lovingly. “Please. Don't leave me. I need you here. You can't… you can't leave me behind. Please, don't go.”

Your ears stopped ringing and everything went black.

Chapter Text

Merry’s hand was finally starting to feel slightly warmer. His feet were dangling over the edge of the bed and the aroma of the athelas-plant was filling the air, giving him the tiniest amount of relief amongst all the sorrow and frustration in his heart.

“Please,” he pleaded quietly. “I want to come with you.”

Aragorn kneeled in front of Merry and took his hands between his palms. His gaze was sympathetic and understanding, but he had no choice but to forbid Merry from marching to the Black Gate.

“Merry, you were touched by the black breath. You need to stay and heal. We cannot risk you dying in a fight. You’re in no condition to battle.”

Merry’s head hung low and tears of desperation fell on his knee. There was not much hope, but he wanted to stand together with his friends - to the bitter end.

“Strider…”

“Merry,” Aragorn said warmly and squeezed the Hobbit’s hands gently. “This is an order.”

Merry did not respond. His heart broke in his chest and his shoulders slumped. He gave Aragorn a faint nod, barely detectable.

“My Lord?”

Aragorn turned his head and saw a man standing at the door. He was visibly a soldier, one alike to Aragorn himself - but even more so alike to Boromir.

“Faramir,” said Aragorn, still comforting Merry.

“Lady Éowyn,” said Faramir. “She requested to speak with you.”

Aragorn looked back at Merry, who was now looking at Faramir. To Merry he looked so alike to Boromir he might have mixed them up if it was not for Aragorn saying the man’s name out loud - and if it wasn’t for Boromir appearing behind Faramir, with his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Are you feeling alright?” Boromir asked, squeezing his brother’s shoulder, worry in his eyes. Merry had never seen Boromir quite so afraid and it dawned on the Hobbit just how close the brothers must have been.

“Better,” Faramir responded to Boromir, looking at Merry with newly found curiosity. When it came to halflings, he had only met Pippin before and seeing another creature so fascinating caused a weird sense of amusement in him. He smiled and Merry smiled back, although very faintly.

Boromir looked at Merry with pity. He knew the turmoil Merry was going through as he had opened up about it to him before. Boromir had adapted to his role as a sort of a big brother to Merry, and Merry had done the same thing back, finding Boromir as a brother figure from almost the day they had met.

Merry on the other hand took note of Boromir's posture, which was less sharp and sturdy than usual. His father had been driven to madness. Denethor had sent Faramir to Osgiliath despite Boromir's pleas, which caused Faramir to nearly pass, which in turn had turned Boromir against his own father. It was all too much for the Steward of Gondor, who then fell into such a dark place in the depths of his soul that he had burned himself on a pyre.

Aragorn gave Merry’s hands one last squeeze and stood up, his stance more kingly than when they had first met. He quietly made his way out of the room with the rest, leaving Merry sitting alone, drowning in his sorrow.

He thought of how pale you had looked and how red his hands were when he held you on the streets of Minas Tirith. He could not stop thinking about the pleading, terrified look in your eyes, and the feeling of your warm blood against his hands kept haunting him, whether he was awake or in a deep sleep - not that he could sleep that well; all of his nights were restless.

Merry thought of Frodo, Sam and Pippin; oh, how humiliating it felt to be left behind, to lay on a bed when everyone else was heading for battle.

And so he stood up shakily and ran to the gates of Minas Tirith and to the Pelennor Fields, where the army was gathering, preparing for their journey.

Merry searched for Aragorn, Legolas, anyone he could find and pleaded.

“Please, let me ride with you,” he begged, but it was no use; he was forbidden from riding. Forbidden from fighting.

His farewell to Pippin hurt the most. Even though Pippin had grown stronger and in height, he feared for him. Pippin had become more courageous and mature, but Merry still felt responsible for him and was horrified when he had heard Pippin was to ride to the Black Gate along with everyone else. His heart felt hollow. The only emotions left seemed to be fear and loneliness; he was alone.

Sure, Lady Éowyn and Faramir were there in the Houses of Healing, but watching their blooming chemistry after knowing each other for only a day or two tugged at his heartstrings. Humiliation and loneliness were nothing compared to the envy he felt; oh, to be walking around with someone he loved and holding their hand.

Your cries were ringing in his ear and he closed his eyes, trying to force the dreadful images out of his head, but it seemed that the harder he tried, the more the memories flooded in.

His heart hurt when he recalled Pippin's cries and pleas for help. His stomach churned when he thought of the horror in Gandalf's eyes when he arrived. The corners of his eyes got wet when an image of Gandalf carrying your limp body entered his mind again.

Merry sat down on the nearest bench he could find. Despite the calming surroundings, he felt worse and worse. He felt like his heart was going to rip out of his chest and he had lost most of his appetite - though not all of it; he was a Hobbit, after all.

Sometimes he would suddenly smell iron and smoke, although those things were nowhere near. This was one of those moments.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers and shut his eyes tight. Even when the smoke in the air was not real, he felt like he was breathing some in and like his lungs would soon give up and turn into dust.

He smelled iron once again. His throat tightened and his stomach twisted. His nausea was almost hourly and at times he was seen by others, throwing up in the Houses of Healing. Pippin found him sobbing several times and offered all the comfort he could, despite the pain in his own heart.

Merry gagged. The smell of iron would not go away and he began to feel faint. His eyes were closed and yet the room felt like it was spinning out of control.

A delicate hand touched his shoulder.

“Merry?”

Merry opened his tear filled eyes and looked up at Éowyn, the look on his face hopeless.

“Are you feeling unwell?” she asked and Merry nodded, holding his belly quickly and trying to suffocate another gag. Éowyn kneeled and took his hands in hers. “Merry, how does the ground beneath your feet feel?”

“What?” Merry asked, confused.

“Describe it to me,” Éowyn encouraged in a gentle tone.

Merry moved his toes around a bit and took a moment to observe the sensations.

“Cold,” he responded. “It feels cold.”

“Does it feel even?” she asked.

“No, no it does not. It feels a little bumpy, yet smooth on the surface.”

“How do my hands feel?” she asked, allowing Merry to gently caress them.

Merry moved his fingers delicately over Éowyn's hands, taking in shaky, deep breaths.

“Soft,” he responded. “Like silk, almost.”

Éowyn smiled a little and squeezed his hands again.

“How does the bench under you feel?” she asked, encouraging Merry to focus on his senses some more.

Merry shifted in his seat slightly, his brows furrowing and head tilting to the left as he settled down again, focusing on the feeling of the cold marble. The sight of Merry moving on the bench so intensely made Éowyn amused, but she did not let it show.

“A little uncomfortable, if I'm being completely honest,” he said, his voice much more steady. “Cold, even through my trousers and it hurts my buttocks.”

Éowyn could not help but chuckle a little.

“Do you think you can open your eyes for me?” she asked carefully.

As Merry opened his eyes, the lady greeted him with a warm smile.

“Do you feel better?” she asked and to his amazement Merry realized that the smell of iron was no longer lingering in the air, and it was now replaced by the smell of athelas.

“Yes, I do, My Lady.”

“Good,” she said. She got up and sat down next to Merry, still holding his hands. “Do not drown yourself in sorrow and fear. It is not healthy to let it consume you.”

“Fear and grief seem to be the only things left in my heart, Lady Éowyn,” Merry said grimly.

“I already know that not to be true,” she said, her smile full of kindness and her gaze reassuring.

“Whatever do you mean?” he asked.

“I can see that there's still laughter and playfulness in your heart. I don't think your courageous and kind heart has given up hope just yet.”

Merry smiled very faintly.

“I feel… Éowyn, I keep seeing her bleed. In my head. I hear her hopelessness and I smell her blood all the time.”

Merry's voice began to shake and tears filled his eyes. His lips trembled and his fingers twitched as he began to fiddle with the hem of his shirt, hoping for the nausea to stay away.

“Merry,” Éowyn said with pity and compassion, her own eyes watering.

“I'm… I'm afraid.”

Éowyn put her hands on Merry's again, helping him to steady his trembling hands.

“Merry, it is no use to dwell in those thoughts. I think you should go see her and try to get rid of those current images in your head with how she looks now. Peaceful. Resting.”

“I go see her many times a day,” Merry confessed. “The help is only temporary. Seeing her so pale and still… It causes my heart to ache in a different way.”

“I think painting a picture of her like that in your mind is much better than seeing her fall apart over and over again.”

Merry knew she was right. He had to see you. It tended to help him, at least for a little while.

“Yes, yes,” he said with a faint nod. “You're right. I just…”

“I know you do,” Éowyn said quietly. Merry tried to smile but the corner of his lip simply twitched a little.

He stood up and straightened his shirt. He bowed kindly to Éowyn and started walking along the long hallway. His feet pattered on the cold floor and his heart felt uncomfortably heavy in his chest.

He stared at the door and took a moment to take some deep breaths. He looked at the carvings on the wooden arch of the door, wondering what their meaning was and how beautiful they looked. In some way they gave him comfort and the courage to step in the room once again.

The door creaked ever so slightly as Merry pushed the door. The room was rather dark, but through the windows some light came through; a gentle reminder to not give up hope.

Merry swallowed and walked slowly to the side of your bed.

Your face was pale and you lay still, as still as you had been for a few days at that point. The faint light shining from the window was giving your face a soft glow and highlighting the highest points of your face; cheeks, nose, lips - all the things that Merry loved to look at the most.

Merry for a short moment put his hand on your cheek and held back tears as he felt the coldness of your skin. He pulled a chair underneath him and delicately put two of his fingers on the pulse point of your wrist. He needed to know if your heart was beating.

Merry let out a sharp sniffle and exhaled from relief, yet still he was afraid. He looked at your chest moving up and down, reassuring himself that you were still breathing and had not left him.

He intertwined his fingers with yours and swallowed his tears.

“So,” he said shakily and cleared his throat. “Have you considered waking up yet?”

In a normal situation that pinch of humor would have made you giggle and Merry smile with pride, but there was no answer and he frowned. He thought that maybe by trying to act like his carefree self you just might wake up - so he continued.

“You know, it's quite rude what you're doing. Just lying there lazily when everyone is out there fighting. Well, almost everyone. Has… has no one ever told you that ignoring others speaking to you as often as I do is quite rude?”

He looked at your face and lips, expecting them to move and hoping for a sarcastic comment back; anything back, really. But there was nothing. Merry sighed and hung his head low.

“Just please, wake up,” he whispered, closing his eyes and holding your hand.

He scooted as close to the bed as he could and laid his free hand on your belly, not quite around you, but close enough for him. He laid his head on the bed and looked at you, his cheek squished against the mattress. He looked at your peaceful face, afraid to close his eyes as he feared he might wake up with you gone.

Every time he saw you there he began to memorize your features and this time was no different. Merry spent half an hour staring at your face, taking in every little detail. As he did that, he thought about how much he missed the subtle movements of your expressive ears.

Eventually his eyes began to flutter shut and no matter how he tried to fight it, his head and upper body molded against the mattress and his grip on you loosened as sleep took him over.

The first dream he had was a memory from ages ago. A memory of you and him sitting alone in an empty Green Dragon, spilling secrets and sharing stories you had never told anyone before. Your smile made the empty room radiant and even in his sleep Merry thought of himself as a fool; how had he not realized his feelings for you then?

He dreamt about the time Pippin blew some pipe-weed smoke into your lungs from a rather close proximity and the weird feeling it gave him - jealousy it was, of course, but he had not realized it back then.

He dreamt of the note you had written for him; the note that he unfortunately lost during the journey.

His mind was spinning in his sleep. Many more memories flooded his mind, until he had the same dream he had had every night since you got dangerously wounded.

He dreamt of the evening of your birthday party and the look on your face when you were presented with the daisy brooch. A wide smile was on his face in the dream like it had been back then, and the way your body moved on the dance floor as you were twirled around was mesmerizing, even more so in the dream.

He stepped close to you and put his hands on your lower back, the lights of Brandy Hall dim around you two, like there was no one else.

“I don't know how you do it,” you said with a slight echo in your voice - that's how Merry knew it was a dream, a repeat of a memory.

“Do what?”

“That. You always find a way to cheer me up. I feel guilty and sad over the stupidest of things sometimes, yet you always come through for me."

“You make it sound like it's a big deal.”

“It is a big deal, Merry! You make me feel special and important.”

“You are special and important.”

“Merry?”

“Yes?”

“You need to wake up,” you said kindly.

“I… I don't want to,” he stammered. “I need this.”

“But I'm hungry.”

His face twitched. What?

“What?” he asked. “What did you say?”

“I'm hungry,” you repeated.

He blinked slowly and shook his head, confused. You had never said it before when he dreamt of this night. You squeezed his hand gently as the two of you danced.

“Merry?”

Merry's eyes fluttered open slowly. The morning had come and the bedsheet felt warm under his cheek. His hand was resting on your belly and there was a small amount of drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. Merry lifted his hand to wipe it off - but he wasn't able to. Something held his wrist nearly completely still, although delicately.

He turned his head, feeling dazed and groggy. His vision was slightly foggy but when it got clearer, there was no doubt; you were holding his wrist, not allowing him to move away and shaking him gently.

“Wake up,” you whispered raspily and smiled softly.

Merry’s eyes widened so much he almost could have been thought to be an owl. His stomach fluttered and he sprung on his feet, and in an instant he was holding your hand. He stood there staring at you, his eyes sparkling like the surface of the Brandywine river on a sunny day. Never had you seen someone so relieved - or Merry smile so wide.

Before you had time to react, he was peppering your face with affectionate and firm kisses, his palms on your cheeks and tears of joy rushing down his face. Merry kept thanking out loud - no one specific, just saying ‘thank you’ repeatedly - and you giggled softly at the sensation of him planting kisses against your skin.

“How long have I been asleep?” you asked through your giggles.

“Too long,” Merry responded, sniffling and kissing you around your cheeks and jawline. He put his lips softly on the tip of your nose and then rested his forehead against yours. “Tell me I'm not dreaming.”

“You're not dreaming,” you confirmed softly. Merry let out a relieved chuckle, his eyes closed as he rested his head against your forehead. “Neither am I, but I am starving.”

“Yes, of course!” Merry said, clearing his throat and standing up straight, wiping his tears. “You haven't eaten in several days.”

“I could eat an oliphaunt.”

Merry let out a loud laugh. Of course your comment was not very funny, but Merry was so overwhelmed he found it the funniest sentence he had heard in his entire life.

“You were muttering in your sleep about how you didn't want to wake up. Here I have been starving, desperate for you to be awake and help me get some treats,” you said, overly dramatic. “And you just wanted to keep sleeping!”

“Ah, immediately turning into a very demanding lady when waking up from her beauty sleep,” Merry joked. His sense of humor had come back as if a lightning of joy had struck him and made him feel like himself again.

“Oh, please. I think you were the one having a beauty sleep, drool and all!”

Merry chuckled. Without a second thought he cupped your face with his hands again and put his lips on yours. Not wanting to waste any time, you responded to the kiss, moving your lips against his softly. Your head was spinning and so was his; you had not kissed since Edoras and it was all still very new.

Merry broke the kiss first, searching for your gaze.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, concern and pure love etched upon his face.

It took you a moment to come up with an answer. Your stomach was stinging but not too painfully, and your body was aching from laying down on the bed for so long. You felt relieved having Merry so close, but on the other hand you were worried about what was happening outside the Houses of Healing.

“I feel alright, I suppose,” you finally responded, playing gently with Merry's stray curls by his ears. “Just starving and a little achy.”

“How achy?” he asked, his gaze affectionate and his thumb caressing your cheekbone.

“A little. It's mostly my limbs.”

Merry nodded. You could see his gaze drift to your lips every now and then. You smirked lightly but decided not to say anything about it.

“How about your stomach? You were wounded badly.”

“It stings just a little,” you said. A thought occurred. “How did I survive? I was certain I would bleed to death.”

Merry swallowed and turned his gaze away, visibly uncomfortable with the subject.

“We all thought you would, but Gandalf managed to control the bleeding long enough for the King to heal your wound.”

“The… King?” you said, blinking rapidly.

“Oh, yes. Aragorn. Apparently he is quite a big deal.”

“How did he… oh, well, it doesn't matter. Can I speak with him? I would like to thank him.”

Merry went quiet. He looked at you, then away, trying to figure out how to tell you.

“Merry?” you called, now deeply worried. “Has something happened to him?”

“No. At least not yet.”

“What do you mean?”

And so Merry explained it all. He told you how everyone had left for one final battle to distract Sauron and give your brother and Sam a chance to sneak through Mordor and destroy the One Ring. He explained how he was forbidden from riding with them and how miserable it made him - although he also mentioned many times how much better he felt now that you were back with him. As much as it stung Merry, it broke your heart a little more.

You wanted to be there for Frodo. To protect him. Sure, he was one of Merry's best friends; but he was your brother. Not by blood, but by all other means Frodo was your family.

And oh, how much you feared for Pippin. No matter how much he had changed, he was still the same old Pippin in many ways and there was a part of you screaming to run after him and keep him safe.

“Do you think they will return?” you asked.

Merry did not answer.

Merry put down a large tankard full of water on your bedside table and brought you all the bread he could find. His arms were full of baguettes and he laid them on your lap as you were laying on the bed, under the warmth of a blanket.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, mouth full of bread and crumbs falling down on your chest. Merry smiled.

“This is quite a familiar sight,” he grinned.

“What?” you asked, doe-eyed and puzzled.

“The crumbs all over you and your chubby cheeks. It's your signature look for whenever we have eating contests.”

“Oh!” you giggled, blushing slightly. “Is it really?”

Merry nodded, his expression affectionate.

After you finished devouring almost all of the baguettes Merry had brought, he sat down on the edge of the bed, gently holding your shoulder as you laid on your back.

“How is the wound healing?” he asked.

“I do not know,” you responded. You swallowed and blushed, very visibly.

“Are you alright?” Merry asked as he noticed the flush of pink on your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” you said, immediately piquing Merry’s interest. “But could you take a look? I'm not very comfortable looking at such things.”

Merry blushed. Of course he had no problem with looking after you, but the action felt quite intimate, considering he would be lifting up parts of your dress, all the way to your belly and exposing your skin to his gaze.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please. I need to know if it still looks bad. I'm already tired of being in bed and I want to know if I can move around.”

Merry nodded.

He pulled the lightweight blanket to your ankles. His hands gently gripped the hem of your dress and he began pulling it up. Merry’s eyes followed the parts that were being revealed and he found himself admiring the smoothness of your skin. As he lifted the dress past your thighs, he took note of the stretch marks on them and thought to himself: ‘Those are the most beautiful marks I have ever seen.’

He blushed deep red as he lifted the dress past your hips. In his mind there were no proper words to describe your beauty. He simply found you so, so beautiful. When he reached the wound he let go of the white dress and exhaled, not having realized he was holding his breath.

He gently ran his fingers across the scar, examining the wound with a focused look on his face.

“Does this hurt?” he asked, gently pressing around the wound with his fingers. You shook your head.

“No. It feels alright.”

Merry pressed on and around the wound, only a few spots stinging slightly when touched.

“It's healing well,” he finally said and put his palm on the wound. “Kings really do seem to heal even the deadliest wounds. I think it's safe to say you can walk around - with me, preferably.”

You chuckled and he joined. His hand still rested on your skin as you gazed into his eyes. The green and blue eyes gazed back at you, something special in them - something deeper than affection.

His touch on your skin sent a wave of warmth through your body and heart. Even though it was an intimate gesture, it was not sexual. It was pure and innocent, a moment of deep, mutual affection. A moment of realization that between you was the kind of love you both had thought existed only in fairytales.

Neither of you were ready to say it out loud, but the unspoken words were clear to both.

Almost every waking moment you spent together. Every now and then Merry would leave you alone with the healers to let them tend to your wound and you did the same for him, for his arm still needed some healing.

On one day you barely spoke to Merry; he was spending time with Faramir, exchanging stories about Boromir and Éowyn, while you were spending your day with who you felt like had become your big sister.

“So, Faramir, huh?” you smirked and Éowyn sighed. Your friendly jab did not land as well as it normally would; her heart seemed troubled. “Éowyn?”

“Hm?” she responded, clearly feeling blue.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. Éowyn shrugged.

She explained her conflicted emotions. Yes, she found Faramir rather fascinating and undeniably handsome, but her heart was full of sorrow from Lord Aragorn not reciprocating her feelings. You talked to Éowyn about her beauty, bravery and strength in length and told her how much happiness she deserved.

And it seemed to have worked; they kept close to each other, more so than before. Yes, they had held hands before, but suddenly it was different.

You climbed up a small step and rested your arms on the white marble edge. The sky was still dark and the rumbling sounds of Mordor could be heard all the way to Minas Tirith. The aftermath of the battle where you were wounded was still visible when looking down the walls of Minas Tirith and to the Pelennor fields. Collapsed Mûmakil here and there, some corpses trapped underneath them and a lot of rubble. Most of the deceased had been taken away from the field and many of them had already been buried before the people marched to the Black Gate.

Suddenly there was a hand on your shoulder; a familiar, warm and comforting touch. You turned your head to your left and saw Merry had come to stand next to you and look down at the city, the field and the shadow over Gondor. When you looked down you saw Merry was not standing on a step like you were; he no longer had to because of how much height he had gained from the ent-draught in the Fangorn Forest.

“Do you think Frodo ever made it through Mordor?” you asked, now staring towards the direction of the borders of Mordor.

“The shadow still lies upon us, but there is a chance he and Sam have made it through Mordor, even though the chances are very little,” Merry responded. You frowned and began fidgeting with your fingers. Merry took notice of this and took your hand in his. Hiis fingers intertwined with yours, making you instantly feel at home.

“It’s been days since everyone left. Do you think we have lost?”

“Well, aren’t you optimistic!” Merry said with a faint smirk and nudged your side, trying to cheer you up through his own worries. Normally it would have made you at least smile a little, but you were concerned for not only your friends and brother, but for all of Middle-Earth. Merry sighed, let go of your hand and instead wrapped his arm around your shoulder and squeezed you tightly. “Don’t give up hope.”

“Have you not given up hope?”

Merry smiled.

“I had, but then you woke up.”

And then you smiled back at him, wide and fondly, your eyes glimmering with admiration and gratitude.

When you looked right, you could see Faramir and Éowyn holding hands not too far away. Faramir kissed her brow and your heart filled with warmth seeing the woman you cared so much about receive such care and adoration.

A gust of wind blew and threw your curls in your face, making Merry chuckle out of sheer amusement. His chuckle died soon, as the white walls of Minas Tirith began turning into a glittering shade of light gold as the darkness set aside and the sun came out. You stared in awe as the river Anduin began to shine blue and silver, and Merry stared at you, admiring the way the sunshine lit up your face.

“The shadow. It has been lifted!” yelled someone down below and many men cheered.

You turned to look at Merry, catching him already staring at you. His eyes were full of uncertainty for what the sun coming out meant, but they were also very clearly full of love and admiration for you and the way you looked in that very moment.

Before the sun set down, an Eagle brought news beyond hope. The Ring had been destroyed and Sauron had fallen.

Merry looked at you with glee and there were stars in your eyes. He scooped you up in his arms and spun you around, a loud giggle of joy erupting from your lungs and your heart sang with joy. Your feet were off the ground for quite some time as Merry kept you in his arms and poured all of his relief and happiness out all at once.

“Did you hear that? Frodo and Sam succeeded!” Merry cried and laughed, his eyes misty. You nodded and nuzzled your face against his neck. Then he finally put you back on the ground. He caressed your jawline with his thumb and leaned in, his lips landing on yours in a moment of passion.

His kiss was intense and full of devotion. You responded to his kiss eagerly, smiling on his lips and soft giggles leaving your mouth. He smirked as he felt your giggles on his lips and he kept kissing you, his hands moving your waist and yours to the nape of his neck. His lips tasted like happiness and his scent filled your nostrils, making your heart swell and stomach fill with butterflies.

When he broke the kiss he was once again laughing; not at you or the kiss, but out of sheer relaxation. Frodo had succeeded. The Ring had been destroyed.

In the following days Merry was summoned to the field of Cormallen and you followed his steps. It took a day or two to make it there, but when you got there, another wave of relief hit you at once. Frodo was alive. Sam was alive. Pippin was alive. All of them wounded, exhausted and unconscious, but all of them alive nonetheless.

Pippin had taken down a large troll in the battle and had nearly passed, which made you feel rather panicked. Merry had to calm you down despite his own growing worry for his best friend. You both were told he was going to be alright, but despite the reassurance, it was not easy to look at him lying there, unconscious and hurt.

Frodo and Sam were deep asleep, nor would they wake up anytime soon. Frodo was missing a finger and both of them had lost so much weight, they were almost unrecognizable. You spent hours holding your brother’s hand and Merry spent hours holding yours.

Soon enough Pippin was awake and the two of you kept him company more than enough. You learned that Gimli was the one who had saved Pippin from his doom and in a whirlwind of emotions, you began planting kisses on the dwarf’s scruffy cheeks. Merry and Pippin laughed as Gimli blushed and began mumbling incoherently. More than anyone else, Legolas found this reaction the most amusing thing he had seen in weeks.

You spent a lot of time helping the wounded and helped arrange a celebration for the Ring bearers. Aragorn was taking his time healing the wounded as well and spending a lot of his hours on his kingly duties.

You sat on some rough sand away from the tents and lifted your knees up. You rested your arms on them and admired the way the sun shined, and the way a beautiful spring weather was already making its way to the people of Gondor.

Merry sat next to you.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, putting his hand on your arm, softly stroking it. This time the smile you gave him was slightly faint.

“I’m alright,” you responded, but Merry noticed that your tone was just a little off.

“Are you?”

“Yes, but I’m just thinking.”

“Thinking?” he said, puzzled.

“Yes, thinking,” you said. “Thinking about how wrong this all could have gone. We could have died. Frodo could have died. Pippin could have died. Sam-”

“Hey, hey,” Merry said, now putting his other hand on your back, moving it in comforting circles. “All of those close to us survived. Your friends survived. My friends survived. Frodo survived. I survived. You survived.”

Merry emphasized the last part; you had indeed almost died, but now it hit you just how lucky all of you were.

“We survived,” you said quietly.

“We survived,” he repeated, his hand still moving on your back.

He looked into your eyes and you into his. It seemed like you could drown in his eyes, so beautiful and comforting they were. The way he looked at you was new to you, and no one had ever gazed upon you with such appreciation. If it was possible, there would have been hearts in his eyes. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as it felt like he was looking straight into your soul. Not in a bad way, but in a way that seemed like he had known you many lifetimes and knew all there was to know about you.

“I love you,” he suddenly said.

Your ears perked up and your heart skipped a beat. You had known for a while now that you loved him deeply and were aware he had to feel the same way, but you had never heard those words from his mouth before.

When you were feeling happy, your ears tended to flutter. When you were sad, your ears were droopy. This time when Merry looked at you after his confession, he could see that your ears were moving more rapidly than he had ever seen them move and how they were practically vibrating with happiness. You felt euphoric.

“I love you too.”

On his face formed a smile full of love and devotion, and soon enough his lips were once again moving meaningfully against yours. His kisses felt right and nothing like you had ever felt with anyone else before.

It felt like everything in the world was right again. Of course, it was not, but in that moment you finally knew what it really felt like to be in love.

Chapter Text

“It's not so bad,” you responded. Merry glanced at your belly, which was covered by a white dress.

“Are you certain? I wouldn't want you to get hurt,” he said, visibly concerned. “It will be dangerous.”

“Merry, just have an eating contest with me for Eru's sake.”

Merry chuckled, still uncertain of your condition. He nodded and took a deep breath. He gave a countdown and at zero, both of you started devouring pieces of delicious bread. It almost felt like you were back in the Shire, sitting in the same old bakery, having the same old eating contests; but nothing was the same anymore. Some in good ways, some bad. But Merry and you? It felt good.

The day went on. The sunlight was making Minas Tirith shine bright white, so white in fact it was almost blinding. Merry’s fingers were interlocked with yours as the two of you walked around the streets, every now and then stopping to help people pick up the pieces of their forever changed lives.

As the sun began to set and painted the sky shades of purple, orange and pink, you and Merry climbed on a broken piece of a wall and sat down, some tiny pieces of the wall falling down with faint sounds. The Hobbit put his arm around you and you crossed your right food over his, your large feet tangling together.

“I believe Frodo will be alright,” Merry said to you for comfort.

You did not respond. You had seen the look in your brother’s eyes. It was not one that would ever fully heal and you had begun to wonder if Frodo would even be able to return to the Shire.

“I hope so,” you responded.

Merry squeezed your shoulder and pressed his lips on your temple.

“Hey,” he said and you turned to look at him, locking eyes with his. “Everything will be alright. Everything is alright. Pippin, Sam, Frodo, you and I; we all made it. Éowyn made it. We are alive and that is worth celebrating. Sure we had some losses, but we survived.”

“I cannot help feeling like something is wrong,” you said. 

It was true. Ever since you heard the Nazgûl screech in Buckland, something did not feel right. Every time you thought of home, there was a weird twisting sensation in your belly; you just couldn’t quite wrap your finger around it. Not yet anyway.

“I promise you,” Merry started and turned towards you a tad more, "even if something turns out to be wrong, everything will fall back into place.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Merry smiled softly and soon his gaze drifted to your mid-section again. He tended to stare at your belly shamelessly, as if to beg for your reassurance that you were indeed feeling alright.

“Do you want to check on it?” you asked and Merry nodded. 

“Maybe later, yes. Right now, I just want to enjoy this sunset and be with you.”

“You know,” you said. “You’ve grown to be quite a romantic. It’s gross.”

Merry let out a warm bark of laughter. He had indeed started to get more and more comfortable with affection; public affection too. The people of Minas Tirith would more often than not see the two of you walking together, hand in hand. Someone who found the romantic gestures rather amusing, was Pippin. He had waited for the day you two would finally meet again and confess each other's feelings, and to him it was like a birthday present when he found out. Every time Pippin walked past you he grinned so wide you were certain you had never seen such happiness before.

Merry was trembling. Cold droplets of sweat were pouring all over his skin and his lower lip was quivering as he weeped in your arms. You held his healing arm tightly, trying your best to provide some warmth to the hand that suffered excruciating pain when it was cold.

“You'll be alright,” you whispered softly, rubbing his arm with your thumb. “Just take a deep breath.”

“It hurts,” Merry whispered through his tears.

“I know, I know,” you comforted, your heart aching. “It will feel better. Do you want me to summon Aragorn?”

“No, don't,” Merry said in an instant. “I do not want to trouble him.”

“Merry,” you said. “Please, you're in pain.”

“Please,” Merry pleaded back. “Just stay with me and hold me.”

Your heart crunched with worry. You pulled him closer to yourself, almost flush against your body and began caressing his hair with your other hand.

“Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere, Merry.”

You woke up with Merry's head resting on your chest. His pain seemed to have subsided at some point during the night as he kept nodding before he passed out in your arms. 

Merry had slept for at least an hour while you were awake and for many more after you fell asleep. You were not sure how many hours you slept for, but it was again day-time and Pippin was behind the door, talking to some healers about his own wounds.

You looked down at Merry's soft curls and smiled as your fingers travelled through them. Just the sensation of Merry close to you made you feel like you were almost back at home, instead of Gondor after the great battle of the Third Age. His warm scent filled your nostrils and you pressed your nose against his curls for some more comforting smells.

The smell reminded you of home. Home that was so far away. Far away and with many reminders of the battle you had fought through. The battle that you had to witness. The blade in your belly. The dead Rohirrim. Théodred. Rath.

You didn't remember much after your body began shaking and Merry's faint voice reached your ears, drowning somewhere immediately. All you could see was black and hear ringing in your ears. And among the ringing; all the cries of the battle, the screams of agony, the pain, the horns and the threats. All you could smell was burning flesh, smoke, blood and cold air.

And then Merry's soothing thumb was on the back of your hand again and his big wide eyes stared into yours.

“Welcome back,” he said with a warm, welcoming smile.

Your hair was clinging to your forehead and had gone almost flat from sweat. Your dress was practically see-through and your fingers were numb. 

“I don't know what happened,” you stuttered, barely able to form any coherent sentences.

“It's alright, sweetheart,” said Merry and squeezed your hand. “You had a panic attack.”

“I thought I would die,” you said shakily. Indeed, it had felt like your body was burning among the corpses and your head had been spinning so hard one might have thought an oliphaunt dropped on you and crushed your brain. “I've never had one so bad.”

“It's not a surprise. You’ve been through a lot, to say the least.”

You gave a nod and squeezed his hand back. You could see Merry's eyes roam your dishevelled hair and your shoulders where the dress was clinging.

“I must look disgusting,” you said and brushed your hair behind your pointy ears.

“You look unwell, yet like the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

“Merry…”

“I mean it. Even at your worst, you take my breath away,” Merry said and took your breath away instead. Your ears wiggled happily and Merry let out a soft chuckle. 

Merry lifted his hands and caressed the shells of your ears gently, making them vibrate harder and your cheeks flush. You squirmed your neck and let out a soft giggle, which made Merry's heart soar.

“That is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard,” he said.

“What is?” you asked, still smiling ear to ear as he now caressed the tips of the fluttering ears.

“Your laugh. I've missed making you laugh so shyly,” he grinned and made you giggle once again.

“Oh, hush.”

“I mean it!”

“You're being disgusting, Meriadoc,” you teased and he put his hand on his heart, feigning offense.

“How dare you!” he gasped dramatically. “I am simply showing appreciation to the woman I love. Allow me to compliment you in peace!”

Your ears fluttered more. More than they had ever done before, at least in front of Merry. He looked amused and tilted his head.

“What makes you so flustered?” he asked.

“You,” you responded honestly and your lips curled up into a coy smile. “Calling me the woman you love. It feels new.”

“Is it a bad kind of new or a good kind of new?” he asked.

“The good kind.”

You woke up to Merry shaking you, your screams of terror coming to an end.

Another nightmare.

You would spend hours upon hours taking turns seeking comfort in the other's arms as the waves of traumas hit you what felt like two like tsunamis; big, instant, deadly.

“Will it ever stop?” you asked, sniffling and wiping away tears. 

“Eventually,” Merry said, rubbing his palm in soothing circles over your back. “I promise.”

“So much pain,” you said. “In my heart. It is so heavy. Oh, Merry. This has all been too much.”

“You're strong and courageous,” Merry said and pulled you into a tight embrace. “You can handle it, even when it feels like too much.”

“What if I can't?”

Merry turned his head with a snap and furrowed his brows as he looked at you disapprovingly and worried.

“Don't ever say such a thing,” he said sharply but in a warm tone that indicated he did not mean it in a threatening way.

“I'm sorry, I just…. It's so hard, Merry. There's so much that has happened and… and…”

“Sweetheart,” Merry sighed and kissed the top of your head gently. “You will get through this.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You made your way to the other side of the table and sat down next to your brother. His finger was still wrapped in a white bandage and his face was slightly pale. You put your hand on his back and stroked gently, asking about his well-being silently. Frodo gave a faint smile and nodded, doing his best to convince you that he was going to be alright. Although, he did not believe it himself.

Sam was sitting next to Frodo, eating and laughing merrily. Some chicken was stuck on the corner of his lip and his light hair was still overgrown from the journey. Frodo’s hair had grown more in length than Sam’s, and it was unkempt. 

You looked for Frodo’s eyes once more, asking for reassurance of his physical and mental state. Frodo smiled and squeezed your hand. 

“Good enough,” you thought and resumed eating. Only if you had looked back at Frodo, you would have seen the pain in his eyes and the longing for the sea he had not yet seen.

“How’s your lamb?” asked Pippin, mouth full as he looked at you. You looked up to him and barked a laugh as you noticed all the jam and custard on his cheeks and nose.

“Pippin!” you giggled. “Clean yourself. We are eating with a king!”

“It’s Strider!” Pippin protested with a smirk and kept eating his crepes messily. You chuckled and called for Merry. When you turned your head towards Merry’s direction, he did not hear anything and you could see him gazing at Aragorn and his now wife, a beautiful elf, Arwen. 

A small pang of jealousy hit you. The way he looked at her made your stomach turn, but soon you realized Merry’s mind was elsewhere, not on the elven lady. His eyes were dreamy as he looked at both her and the king. You figured it must have been his admiration for such eternal love as theirs - and in some ways, you were right.

Merry certainly was dreaming as he looked at Arwen and Aragorn, but he was dreaming of having a wedding as such with you and already his heart was doing somersaults planning on how he would one day kiss you on the altar.

Suddenly a splash of cold custard hit your face and as you took your eyes off Merry, you could hear Pippin laugh and see him almost fall off his chair.

“Peregrin Took!” you tutted. “My face is covered in custard!”

“Come on!” Pippin provoked. “Give me your best shot!”

Something in your head snapped and you picked up some of the brown, peppery sauce from your plate onto a spoon and aimed it towards the young Took. He dodged it, barely, so you stood up and threw another one, which hit him right on his jawline.

“Ha!” you laughed victoriously. Pippin scooped some jam and threw it at you again and again, which you returned with a handful of custard.

In no time Merry joined and to everyone’s surprise, so did the ringbearer. Sam, on the other hand, watched the antics of the four of you, shaking his head disapprovingly. All the while Aragorn was smiling behind his golden goblet at the end of the long table, admiring the carefree attitude of the Hobbits he had grown to love throughout the past several months. Arwen was smiling fondly next to him and leaned her head on his shoulder, whispering sweet nothings in elvish as they watched all of you fight with food.

Times had been tough, so having any food to waste in a food fight felt like a luxury you had never had before. So many weeks you had gone by with barely any food, and now there was some blueberry jam stuck on your cheek and curls. 

It felt sticky, but it felt like comfort.

The day passed and the moon began to rise. The walls of Minas Tirith bathed in a silvery light as the moon shone down on them. The stars were showing brighter than before; or at least it had felt like it every passing night since the shadow was lifted and the sky was unveiled.

You were sitting on the cold marble of a bench in the Houses of Healing, where you still rested, healing your wound and trauma. Merry had made home in the room next to you to stay close, although his arm was practically healed, if not for the pain during days when the weather was chilly.

The night was warm and so was your heart when you saw Merry approach you.

“Hullo,” you said softly and he sat next to you at once. He smiled and with no hesitation, his lips pressed against your cheek. You chuckled, confused. “What was that for?”

“For sitting there so prettily,” Merry grinned and stared deep into your eyes, the stars dancing in his.

Your response was naught but a wide smile and the familiar flutter of your ears. Merry took your hand in his.

“I am grateful,” he said.

“For what?” you asked.

“You. I’ve gone through so much - we all have - and I don’t know if I could have done it without you.”

“Merry…”

“I mean it. I visited… I visited King Théoden today and I would not have been able to if it was not for you, my love. I weeped but it felt less painful than it would have if I did not have you to be here for me.”

“How do you feel now?” you asked Merry, thinking about how Merry had grown to see the now passed King of Rohan as a father figure.

“Awfully sad,” Merry said. “I miss him dearly and wish I could have gone and smoked with him as we promised each other. But on the other hand I feel happy. Happy that you are here and alive. Happy that the Ring is destroyed and that everything is back to normal.”

Silence followed Merry’s words. Everything was back to normal, yet it was not. Everything had changed. Sam kept his eye on Frodo in a way you had never seen before, due to everything that happened on their own journey. Pippin was as cheerful as ever, yet the sparkle that used to be in his eyes was not there; not in the same way as before. There was darkness and trauma weighing on young Peregrin Took. Merry was having panic attacks on a regular basis and his arm pained him excruciatingly every cold night. Frodo’s gaze was empty and longing for something he could never have again. He was seen touching around where the Ring used to rest on his neck and chest, searching for it and pain in his eyes. 

And you had pain in your stomach on cold nights or when you slept on it for too long. More than that, you tended to black out from panic attacks when all those memories that terrorised your mind hit you out of the blue.

“So,” you said and cleared your throat. “Do you regret leaving me behind yet?”

Merry’s face dropped. You were joking of course, but Merry could not see the humour in the question.

“I do,” he said with sincerity. “I should never have hurt you in such a way; or at all for that matter.”

Your heart was wrung with pity. You realized it was still not the time to joke about the matter and guilt filled you as you noticed just how bad Merry still felt.

“You do know I have forgiven you, right?” you asked.

“I do,” he responded. “It does not ease the guilt, my love.”

“Well, it should,” you said and cupped his face. You gently looked into his eyes and smiled. “I do not carry a grudge or hate, and you should not feel guilt over something that happened so long ago and something that has been fixed.”

“I can’t help but feel like you would not have gotten hurt if it was not for me.”

You held his face but kept quiet for a moment. Would you have gotten hurt if it was not for Merry? Would you have ever come to Gondor if he had told you about the plan?

“I would have forced myself on the journey with you even if you told me,” you finally said and Merry sighed and nodded.

“You would have,” he chuckled grimly. “But I must still apologize. I feel like it is my fault.”

“Is that why you want to observe the wound so? To see the damage you think you caused?” 

Your eyes met his and he nodded reluctantly. You caressed his cheeks with your thumbs and a tender warmth passed through the two of you, comforting both.

“I wish you had not been hurt.”

“So do I, but I was. And it was not your fault.”

“Are you certain you aren’t mad at me?” he asked for reassurance. Your eyes lingered on his and you nodded.

“Of course I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. Besides, you’ve taken such good care of me.”

You cradled his face slightly tighter between your palms and leaned forward. You softly pressed your lips against his and you could feel him shiver slightly. He responded to the kiss with warm tenderness and put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him on the bench. You kept moving your lips on his, gently but confidently, tilting your head to get closer to Merry. The kiss felt like an unspoken promise of devotion and love, which caused you to break the kiss.

“Merry?” you whispered gently.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice slightly strained as he licked his lips discreetly.

“I love you,” you said softly and he smiled, kissing you again. 

“I love you too,” he murmured between the soft kisses. “More than words can possibly express.”

Every kiss was unhurried and gentle, yet firm enough to indicate to both that the passion between the two of you was growing. Your breaths mingled and his fingers gently gripped the fabric of your dress. You could hear him gasping for air even through the most tender of kisses.

“Merry,” you said again in a quiet whisper, your own voice now shaky.

“Yes?” he asked, his lips gliding over yours once more.

“Stay with me tonight,” you whispered, your voice laced with vulnerability and desire.

Merry gulped and his fingers clung slightly to your dress involuntarily. 

“Stay with you tonight?” he repeated, as if confirming what you had said was real.

“Yes. I do not want to wake up without you.”

Merry nodded softly and kissed you again, slowly, gently, full of unspoken promises. Gently he took your hand in his and with his other hand he gently caressed your cheek as he broke the kiss.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

He stood up slowly but still a little unsteady and fixed his shirt. He laced his fingers with yours tighter and began walking towards his room. You put your free hand on his shoulder and stopped.

“Please, can we go to my room instead?”

Merry smiled and nodded, and you led the way to your room in the Houses of Healing.

The room was glowing softly from the moonlit sky showing through the windows and there was a small candle still lit, creating a warm hue in one of the corners. Merry walked around a bit and picked up some matches, lighting up the remaining candles in your room. He put the matches out and placed them aside on your bedside table, slowly making his way to you again.

He put his hand on your shoulder and gently caressed, locking his eyes with yours. He leaned down and kissed you, his lips pressing firmly against yours with a renewed passion, but still slightly careful. Your lips moved in sync and you breathed in the air from his lungs, before breaking the kiss to murmur quietly: “Lay with me.”

Merry smiled on your lips and nodded, giving you one more brief kiss before pulling away slightly, just enough to look at you in your eyes. He searched for permission and you nodded. 

His hand gently moved your dress slightly off your shoulder, and his gaze was immediately glued to the small portion of the exposed skin. The sleeve slipped down completely over your shoulder and Merry shivered, his fingers gently tracing the curves of your shoulder and the shape of your exposed collarbone.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered and moved the sleeve down to your elbow, softly moving his fingers down your arm. His fingers were trembling slightly as he moved the fabric and you could feel him shiver.

“Are you alright?” you asked. “We don’t need to do this if you are not certain you want this.”

“I do want this. I want you.”

He looked into your eyes again and his hands found their way to your waist as he kissed you once, tenderly. His hands tugged on the hem of your dress and like an instinct, you raised your arms up and like it was always meant to happen, Merry pulled your dress off you and let it float down onto the floor. 

His eyes worshipped every curve and contour of your body as you stood there in naught but your undergarments. Merry did not blink as he slid his hands down your arms and then your sides, all the way up to your ribs and then back down onto your hips. He leaned forward and began planting soft, appreciative kisses all over the side of your neck and down to the curve between your neck and shoulder. A soft gasp escaped your lips as he moved his lips on your collarbone. 

His lips moved down, down, down and he stopped after he had travelled to your sides and hip. He gently trailed his fingertips over the scar on your stomach, examining it and looking at you with a mix of concern, admiration and desire. 

You looked down at him as he caressed your skin with attentivity and you shuddered as his other hand gently grabbed your hip. He began pressing his lips against your stomach, kissing along and around the battle wound, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire inside of you.

He kissed your thigh and groaned on your skin approvingly before he rose back on his feet and his tall figure stood in front of you once again. You stepped almost flush against him and began undoing his shirt’s buttons, although shakily. In no time he assisted you, slowly revealing the skin of his chest to you, inch by inch. As his shirt fell down on the floor, you could not peel your eyes off his chest. It had healed wounds and was full of freckles, each one of them which you wanted to desperately kiss. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, your tongues joining together into an almost fiery dance. Yes, it was intense, but also gentle and each of Merry’s touches felt like pure love and affection. All of his kisses were meaningful and every time he looked at you, it was clear he worshipped you. His hands roamed your body, learning every scar and wound inch by inch, and it was so tender it brought tears into your eyes, ones which he wiped away at ease. 

The night passed in a blur of gentle touches and soft whispers. It all felt natural and warm, like it had always meant to have happened.

You were home.

Chapter Text

Your eyes fluttered open as the warm rays of sunshine cast a golden light into the room. Your cheeks were heated and your toes that were peeking from under the blanket were slightly cold as the cool morning air brushed against them. You began pulling your feet back under the blanket; and that's when you realized that your and Merry's feet were tangled together. 

Your curls disheveled and clothes scattered around the floor, you blushed. 

There he was, lying next to you, your limbs tangled together like vines and his blond curls partly covering his face. His bangs were hiding his eyes but his round button nose was peeking from under. There was peacefulness on his face and his freckles were more visible now that the sun cast light upon them.

You brushed some of the curls out of the way so you could admire his peaceful expression better. Something about how natural it all felt made your heart soar and filled you with a sense of comfort. Even when he was asleep, there was safety and a feeling of contentment.

You stretched your arms above your head and yawned. You ran your hand through your messy hair, getting your fingers stuck for a moment. You let out a soft grunt and untangled your fingers, only to hear Merry snickering right beside you.

You turned to look at him again and caught him staring at you, one eye closed and the other one half-lidded.

“Having trouble there?” he teased, his voice groggy and low.

“No,” you protested and smiled. You could see him admire your form, face and all the details of your scruffy morning look. His usual mischievous spark was there in his eyes, but there was also a glimmer of love and worship.

“You look beautiful,” he said breathlessly and gently pulled you back into his arms, his warmth encircling you. He inhaled your scent as he nuzzled his face to the back of your neck, planting a soft kiss on the sensitive skin there. 

“Did you sleep well?” you asked, scooting closer to him, his chest now pressed against your bare back. He wrapped his arms tighter around you and took your hands in his.

“I think it might have been the best night of my life,” he responded, “and not just the sleep.”

“Merry!” you giggled softly.

“I mean it,” he said, heartfelt and tender. “I really do. The way you moved and felt, how it was like to have you so close to me… It felt like it was meant to have happened all along.”

You smiled and planted a soft kiss on his knuckles.

“It felt right.”

“And good,” Merry added, making you snort. 

“And good.”

For a while you both just laid there, molded together, not in any type of a rush to leave the cocoon you'd made. It felt easy just laying there in each other's arms, the only sound being the steady breathing from the two of you and the soft rustling of sheets when either of you moved closer to each other.

The coffee burnt your lips a little. It tasted rich and earthy. You sighed happily as you held the cup between your palms, your feet swinging in the air as the chair you were sitting on was quite large for a Hobbit.

“Did you sleep alright?” Sam asked as he looked at your unkempt hair. “You look, well, pardon me for saying this Miss Baggins, ruffled.

"I slept well,” you responded with a warm, happy grin. “Thank you, Sam.”

Pippin had been keeping an eye on you for a moment now, and despite being a little clueless sometimes, he didn't take long to put two and two together. An impish grin formed on his face.

“I'm sure she slept like a log,” he said in a teasing tone. “She looks like she enjoyed herself.”

Your cheeks turned beetroot red as you heard Pippin's words. The clinks of Merry's spoon hitting his teacup’s edges stopped in an instant and he gave Pippin a meaningful look - a look that begged him to be quiet. It was personal, after all. 

Sam looked at Pippin, rather confused. Frodo on the other hand had seen the blush on your cheeks and the subtle headshake of Merry's. Frodo smiled a little.

“Like I said,” you continued, clearing your throat awkwardly, “I slept well.”

The sounds of cutlery scraping against plates continued as all five of you resumed breakfast. Pippin grinned to himself goofily the whole time and every now and then you caught him wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Merry,” Frodo whispered to him and Merry's heart skipped a beat. It was no secret he was in love with you, but now he feared how your brother would react to the fact that you had spent a night together, let alone before tying the knot.

“Mhm?” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact, his mouth full of scrambled eggs.

“You won't hurt her, right?” Frodo asked, his eyes soft and understanding, “I can count on you?”

“Of course,” he responded. “I would never hurt her. She means the world to me.”

Frodo gave Merry a firm, supportive squeeze on his shoulder and got back to his own scrambled eggs, which Merry noted Frodo ate with barely any appetite.

“Are you not hungry?” Merry asked him, concerned.

“I am,” Frodo sighed. “I'm just worried. Something is off.”

It was something both you and your brother had paid attention to several times throughout your separate journeys. 

“What do you mean?” Merry asked, putting his fork down and turning to Frodo.

“I can't put my finger around it, but-”

“What finger?” interrupted Merry, unprompted, immediately regretting his jab at Frodo's missing finger, knowing well enough what he went through. Yet, Frodo snickered. No one had really had the courage to talk to Frodo without walking on eggshells - except Pippin. Hearing such a bold line from someone made Frodo happy.

“Yes,” he chuckled. He took a breath and he turned more serious. “But like I said, I can't wrap my finger - stop laughing, Merry - around it. Something feels off. I feel the need to return home.”

Merry stopped laughing and gave Frodo an understanding nod.

“We'll leave soon, and this time it'll be quick. No Orcs to stop us from proceeding.”

The corner of Frodo's mouth twitched into a small smile, but as he resumed eating, his smile faded just as quick. He couldn't shake off the weird feeling that was looming over him like a dark storm cloud.

Tears in your eyes you wrapped your arms tightly around Éowyn's waist.

“I will miss you so much,” you wept and she caressed your hair gently.

The air was crisp and warm. The atmosphere was heavy from the funeral that had just been held for Théoden King. Edoras was still beautiful and standing tall, even though many of its people had been lost.

“I will miss you too,” said Éowyn softly, “but I'm certain our paths will cross again.”

“I'd love for you to visit Buckland and the Shire, Éowyn, if you would not mind. Although it might be uncomfortable for you, with it being so far and the things having been made more fitting to our small sizes.”

“I would like to visit the Shire, if I can. I wouldn't dare to have this as our last meeting,” she said, her golden hair moving graciously in the wind. She kneeled down in front of you and took your hands in hers like she had done so many times before. “Take care of yourself, alright? I wouldn't have anything happen to you.”

“I will,” you responded and smiled, a tear from your eye falling on the back of Éowyn's hand. 

“And you do have that Merry looking after you, eh?” she chuckled and nudged your arm gently. You laughed warmly and turned to look at Merry, who was gearing up a pony.

“I do.

“Make sure he takes good care of you,” she said.

“I already know he will,” you responded, almost completely mesmerized by Merry as you were looking at him. Éowyn smirked and hugged you once more. 

“Goodbye,” she said tearfully.

“Goodbye, Éowyn,” you responded quietly, holding her tightly, not quite ready to let her go; she had become a sister to you and being forced to be apart made you upset.

But it was time to let go. She pulled away from the hug and walked back to Faramir. Her face was fair and there was grief for her uncle on it, but Faramir by her side made her glow and her happiness shone through. Her warmth took away the crumb of jealousy you had felt when Merry kissed her hand while saying his goodbyes. 

Éowyn had said her goodbyes to Merry, you and everyone else she meant to. Merry had gotten a special gift from her and Éomer; a horn of Rohan, silver and green with runes engraved on it.

“Ready?” Merry asked when you made your way to him. He was making sure the saddle was secure on the pony.

“Mhm,” you responded and gave his cheek a soft, affectionate kiss. It brought a wide grin on Merry's face and a whistle from Pippin could be heard by anyone near.

“Shut up, Pip!” Merry called out, only to get laughter as a response from the young Took.

You opened your eyes, your head resting against Merry's chest. The chirping of birds rang through the air and the wind was almost completely still. There was laughter from many of your companions and the hooves of the ponies and horses were brushing against the grass.

“Morning,” Merry murmured in your ear and reached to give a gentle kiss on your temple.

“Morning,” you responded groggily. “Did I sleep long?”

“For an hour or so,” he said and the pony whinnied softly beneath you as a greeting. You gave the pony a soft pet.

“I feel like I could sleep for ten more hours.”

“You can if you'd like,” said Merry, “I'll look after you.”

“No, really, it's alright. I'll wait for our next stop.”

“Alright, suit yourself. Next stop is nap time.”

“Merry?”

“Yes, my sweet?”

“When exactly is the next time we stop?” you asked sheepishly. Merry laughed heartily and gave a soft kiss on your jawline.

“Just sleep. You're clearly exhausted.”

“Maybe for a little bit more,” you said as your mouth stretched into a yawn. 

As the pony's steps came to a halt, your eyes fluttered open again. You were near Isengard. The sky was already covered in a sparkle like diamonds and a few feet away Gimli was lighting a campfire, the warmth of it reaching your cold toes.

“How long-?”

“Six hours,” Merry chuckled. Your eyes widened and you stretched your arms high above your head. Your toes curled and your legs stretched far and wide.

“Six?” you cried. “Oh my. How did this even happen?”

“You tell me, sleeping beauty,” he said and patted your side, gesturing you to hop off the pony. 

Both of you gently dismounted the animal and hit the soft ground beneath. As a habit you reached for Merry's hand and closeness. With no hesitation he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and walked you to the rest of the group.

“Why are we here later than anyone else?” you asked, puzzled.

“I slowed down to let you sleep,” he responded, sitting down comfortably and pulling you gently down with him. “We weren't much behind, just a tad slower.”

“Look who's awake!” Frodo said gleefully and raised his piece of bread as a cheer. Everyone greeted you, amused by your sleepy state.

“How come you were so tired?” Samwise asked, spooning soup into his mouth.

“I have no clue,” you chuckled and reached for some bread. “I guess all of this traveling really wore me out.”

“Clearly,” Pippin said, his voice muffled by the large piece of bread sticking out of his mouth. You rolled your eyes at him, and yet you couldn't help but smile.

The evening progressed with plenty of stories exchanged. 

You shared about your adventures as a little fauntling and how much they got on Frodo's nerves; like the incident of you smearing honey all over the walls in his room. Gimli gushed about the glittering caves, while Legolas told stories over a hundred years back. Gandalf told of his fireworks, Merry and Pippin shared some tales of their shenanigans, accompanied by disapproving grunts from Gandalf. Sam told of a story when he went swimming with Rosie Cotton as a child. Sam blushed all throughout his story, which no one commented on, though it brought quiet smiles all around.

Frodo on the other hand kept quiet, and understandably so. The Ring kept burdening him even after it was destroyed - and in some way it now burdened him more.

“Was it hard to let go?” you asked Frodo quietly, while everyone else was focused on listening to Legolas tell stories from deep in Mirkwood. Frodo looked at you, his gaze slightly empty and melancholic.

“What?” he asked.

“The Ring,” you responded.

He went silent. His gaze drifted to the fire and in his eyes was clear debate. He desired to tell the truth but a part of him did not want his sister to know what he had done. But Frodo preferred the truth. After all, he too had left you behind and was bearing the guilt of that with him.

“I did not let it go.”

“What?”

“I did not let the Ring go. I claimed it.”

“You… what?” you said, brows furrowed.

“I claimed the Ring as my own, deep in the fires of Mount Doom. I held it, I claimed it. I could not throw it into the fire. I claimed the One and put it on.”

“Frodo…”

“I should have destroyed it,” he muttered, his eyes watering and his hand clutching his shirt where the Ring had once rested. “Instead it was destroyed by a mere accident.”

“My dear Frodo,” you said and squeezed his shoulder. “You were deep inside Mount Doom. Deep where the Ring was forged by Sauron himself. Of course you would not have been able to do it. Not without help. Anyone would have succumbed. I know I would have.”

Frodo looked at you. His body relaxed slightly and his hand squeezed into a fist over his chest. His eyes were soft as he searched for your eyes.

“Thank you,” he mouthed and you gave his arm one more squeeze before returning to Legolas’s story.

It was a long journey, during which Legolas and Gimli parted in their own direction; they had made each other all kinds of promises they were now to fulfill. The goodbyes were bittersweet and there were tears in your eyes as you watched the two gallop away together. 

The journey resumed, and when you arrived in Isengard, it was told by Treebeard that the Wizard Saruman had left the tower Orthanc, along with Gríma Wormtongue. It filled your heart with worry as you had learned much about his evil ways, but when you looked at Merry, there was such bravery and nonchalance in him, your worry faded away for a while. The visit to Isengard was short lived and before you continued towards the Shire, Pippin and Merry shared a last moment with Treebeard, drinking ent-draught together. When Merry walked back to you, you could swear he had already grown some more.

Despite how far away from Gondor or Edoras you all were, there was still a long road ahead. You passed many trees and many small pools of water. There were rainy days and sunny days, some warmer than others. On some days there would be deafening downpour, and on others, it was too hot to travel. One specific spot near the Gap of Rohan made your stomach twist and everyone had to stop for a while when you hopped off your shared pony and ran into a nearby bush. When Merry made his way to you, he caught you throwing up your guts, shaking and pale.

“What's wrong?” he asked, eyes wide with panic, putting his hands on your sides and kneeling beside you. All you could do was shake your head and throw up again. The taste in your mouth was abysmal, but worse than that were the memories of Rath and his deception in your mind. The scar on your arm was itching and the ankle you had hurt back then was aching.

Merry caressed your back as you went through a wave of emotions and the physical reactions that came with it. Every now and then someone from the group called out to you and Merry reassured them all was well, even when it was not.

“I am sorry,” you said weakly, your voice hoarse from the temporary damage to your throat. 

“What for?” Merry asked, gently wiping a small spot of vomit off the corner of your mouth with his sleeve.

“This,” you responded, sniffling, collecting yourself. Merry just smiled, his heart heavy with pity and worry. He gently kissed your cheek and helped you up by your armpits. Your knees were shaking and your hands were cold, but Merry's grip was firm and strong, so he kept you steady.

“Are you ready to go back?” he asked softly. You gave him a careful nod and he escorted you back to your pony. You did not dare to look up at anyone, for you felt embarrassed and did not want to see the looks on their faces; although in reality they were just concerned and not judgemental like you feared.

After traveling through yet another forest, you and your friends came to an opening, spotting an old man who was leaning on a staff. His cloak was torn and very dirty, and at his heels was another ragged man. The man was slouching, whining and groaning; clearly weary from their travels together. 

“Why, Saruman,” said Gandalf and your eyes widened.

So it was. The Wizard turned around and for a while all your fears faded away; he looked worn out, remorseful, weak and his black eyes did not seem as threatening as you had imagined. 

The ragged, greasy haired man next to Saruman however made you feel uneasy. Shivers traveled through your spine when he looked at you; up and down, almost like you reminded him of someone he longed for. You gave him a nasty side-eye and gently grabbed Merry's cloak, subconsciously searching for safety.

For some time Saruman paid no attention to you or the other Hobbits, for he was focused on talking to Gandalf; who also seemed to pity him.

“So you have come to gloat too, have you, my urchins?” Saruman said, making your heart drop to your stomach and insides twist. He had now taken notice of you. 

Oh, how you wished he had paid you no mind. 

Then something he said grew your curiosity and your fear returned; he asked about pipe-weed and if he may have some. But more than that, he said he knew where it came from. There were wheels turning in your head; why would Saruman know where pipe-weed comes from? It was all from the Shire, after all. The Shire that was hidden far away and well protected from any outside folk.

He taunted and talked down to you some more. You could hear Pippin snicker at the old man, but something about Saruman made you feel primal fear. Suddenly you felt movement from Merry. To your surprise, Merry offered the wizard his last pipe-weed in a leather pouch. Greedily the wizard took it; pouch and all.

A few more words were exchanged, none of them pretty. You exchanged concerned looks with your brother, for Saruman said something that formed a dark cloud over your minds: 

“It will serve you right when you come home, if you find things less good in the South farthing than you would like.”

One might have thought of it as nothing more than an empty threat or a string of rude words, but both you and Frodo had a sinking feeling at the pits of your stomachs - the same sinking feeling that had been there for as long as you could remember.

By the time you were at Rivendell, Aragorn too had left the company. The goodbyes were warmer than the previous ones, as he reassured everyone that he was to visit soon. Aragorn also did not forget to remind Pippin that he was still at service of Gondor and that he would have him work for him - although he said so in a light-hearted manner.

The stay at Rivendell was only a few days long. Bilbo dwelled there and most of the time he was sleeping. In his sleep he murmured poems and songs he had written during his time with the Elves, but some of it had become repetitive and unclear as old age was catching up to him, now faster than ever. It was heavy to watch him slowly forget about the little things, but at the same time you felt relief; it was clear the Ring was no longer burdening him as much. 

One night, as he was retelling a story or two, he gave gifts to Merry and Pippin; pipes, elven-made. Beautifully carved and, at first glance, very special to both of them.

When the others left the room at Bilbo's request, he invited you to sit by the fireplace, patting the seat next to him.

“Come,” he said, his voice tired and weary. His wrinkles were many and the grey curls on his head were almost like clouds; puffy, lightweight, easily falling apart.

You nodded and sat next to him. He took your hand in his fragile, old hands and smiled.

“For you I have a simple gift,” he said as he looked at you. 

“Yes, uncle?” 

“It is advice,” he said and you smiled. Of course. What else could it have been?

“What's the advice?” you asked, simple and straightforward.

“Do not doubt him when he says he is ready,” Bilbo said and you raised your eyebrow.

“What?” you asked, urging him to continue.

Bilbo smiled, eyes bright and the corners of them crinkling.

“Merry is a little childish sometimes, but he is an intelligent young man. For as long as I can remember, he's taken good care of you. Better care than he has taken of anyone else. You may think he isn't ready, but he is.”

“Ready for what, exactly?”

“He has always been in love with you, if you were to ask me. So do not doubt him when he says he is ready for a serious commitment. He may be childish and all, but he is an intelligent young man and knows that despite liking freedom and the attention of the ladies, his heart has always belonged to you and that he is to marry you one day.”

“Uncle.”

“I am old, but not a fool. I could see it had happened the moment you walked through that door.”

You blushed. 

“Make sure he gets a good ring when he proposes.”

“Uncle!” you cried. “We are not there. We are barely… We are still figuring it out. Slowly!”

“You'll get there,” Bilbo said with a knowing smile. You rolled your eyes playfully, but deep down you wished his words to be true.

When you made it to Bree, it was time for Gandalf to part. He gave many words of reassurance, but none of them gave you the comfort you seeked. He spoke about gates at the Brandywine river, though when you had left, there were no such things. The thought entered your mind that the War may have reached the Shire, even though you all deeply wished it had not. No one else seemed as afraid, least of all Merry; but your dread grew and in your brother's eyes you still saw the same fear. The unnerving feeling turned worse with every step towards home.

It was a small opening in a forest, with the approaching moonlight creating dancing shadows around you and casting a faint silver glow. The ground beneath was so soft it felt like you were sinking into a mattress. But you were shivering. It was a chilly October evening and even your blanket couldn't keep you warm. You were cold and so were your thoughts; they were still all consumed with a feeling of doom. You had the urge to pack up your belongings and ride one of the ponies right back to Minas Tirith. Something was lurking in the Shire. You felt it in your bones. Whenever you thought of home there were shivers creeping up your spine and your stomach turned. Every step closer to Buckland made you lose the feeling on your legs and your fingers twitch. You could not wrap your head around what made you so unsettled. Not yet.

You crawled over Pippin - who groaned in annoyance even through his deep sleep - and made your way under Merry's blanket, wrapping your arms tightly around him. He stirred awake.

“Can you not sleep?” he asked, pulling you into his arms; to his warmth.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. He nodded and started to gently rub your back, making sure you would feel warm and safe. You thanked him and he simply smiled back before closing his eyes and falling back asleep. 

But you couldn't fall asleep. The shadow in your heart did not leave you alone and was still turning your insides out.

For some time you stayed there in your thoughts, staring at the black night sky and surrounded by Merry’s warm touch. 

When you finally fell asleep, it was sudden and deep, leaving you completely limp in Merry's arms, which made him pull you in closer. There you slept for a while, more comfortable than you had in many previous moments of rest.

“Hey,” Merry whispered and gently nudged you awake, his finger poking your shoulder. With a loud groan you sat up, noticing that Merry had already gotten up and wrapped you under two blankets for comfort and peace. Your ears wiggled at the realization, but you did not notice. Merry however smiled like a fool; so in love with you he was.

“Morning,” you said softly. 

“It is night,” Merry said and helped you up.

Behind him Frodo and Sam were preparing the ponies and to your left was Pippin, still sound asleep, snoring and letting out uneven whimpering noises. You smirked and crawled next to him. Raising your right hand, you squeezed Pippin's nose tight, obstructing his airway. He snorted and startled himself awake.

“Oi!” he cried. “What are you doing?”

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Pippin simply groaned and pulled his blanket over his head. You pulled the blanket off him and folded it, shoving it in his lap. Pippin let out a loud sigh and reluctantly sat up, his gaze turning to the sky above.

“Could we not have waited until morning?” he asked. “We have barely slept!”

“No,” said Frodo suddenly. His face was serious. “We must move with haste.”

No questions asked, all of you gathered your belongings and mounted the ponies. This time you were behind Merry instead of in front of him, your arms encircling him from behind.

Your eyes widened as you saw what was waiting by Brandywine.

There were tall spiked gates along its length. New buildings had been built, all dark and unsettling; nothing like the Shire or Buckland were supposed to be. You longed for the comfort and beautiful nature of the Shire. You deeply missed the chirping of robins, smell of lavender and you wished to see the hazel-tickets again. You reminisced the smell of the bakery and the smile of the old lady in charge of it, always happy to see you.

The horses’ hooves met the ground, striking with gentle yet loud noises against the recently set up wood. Merry hopped off the pony and you took the reins with one hand, the other petting the pony, keeping it calm. Merry walked to the tall door in front of you, pounding on it.

“Hullo!” Merry called out, more than fed up with what he was seeing.

“Can you not read the notice?” a voice called back. “No movement between sundown and sunrise!”

“Of course we can not see the sign!” Sam grunted at the voice. “It is the middle of the night, dark as it can be. If Hobbits are not allowed to come home, I will tear down the notice when I see it!”

There was pattering of feet and the door opened slightly. A few Hobbits were peering through the gap, lanterns in their hands, providing very little light. First they looked sure of themselves, but when they saw the armor on Merry and Sam, their expressions turned fearful. Pippin's sword flashed in the moonlight, making one of the Hobbits wince and take a step back. A few faces you could recognize in the dark, but you knew not their names. 

“Master Merry! All dressed up for fighting! They said you were dead. I’m glad to see you alive.”

“Then stop gaping at me through the bars and open the gate.”

“I’m sorry, Master Merry, but we have orders.”

You and Pippin exchanged looks. Neither of you understood what they meant. It was unheard of; orders in the Shire?

“Orders?” asked Merry.

The Hobbits gave a brief explanation of someone called ‘ The Chief’ having given firm instructions and orders to all the folks in the Shire, and they told they were not to break the rules; not even for other Hobbits, familiar and returning from a long, tiring journey.

Merry then spotted the notice. He took a few steps toward it and tore it off. He crumpled it in his hands and threw it over the gate.

“Alright,” he said and put his foot steadily forward. “Come, Pippin.”

Pippin hopped off his pony and confidently strutted next to Merry. They began to climb the gate, making the rest of the Hobbits back out. Though, as they ran off, they blew the horns they had on their belts. The sound was harsh and made your ears ache, reminding you of the screeches of Nazgûl; although this was not as high pitched, but just as ugly.

As you watched the two climb the gate with ease, you felt something stir inside you. Merry was so fearless and large; muscular even, and had yet again gained height. There was stirring in your guts; though it was the good kind. It was also inappropriate considering the circumstances, so you shook the thoughts off and regained your posture.

A loud shout reached your ears and Merry and Pippin came to a temporary halt. A heavy, threatening figure approached them, berating and angry. 

And yet, he stopped in his tracks when he saw the glimmer of the swords. The man swallowed and shakily opened the gate.

“Give me the key,” Merry commanded. The Ruffian responded by flinging the key in the poor Hobbit's face. Merry grunted softly and rubbed the spot on his cheekbone where the silver key had hit him before dropping to the ground.

After a short discussion, everyone agreed some rest was needed, as your bodies had grown weary and it was hard to stand on your feet, let alone stay awake. You were guided into a room in one of the harsh-appearing houses.

The room you entered was cold and empty, for but a fireplace that was dead. Every wall was covered in rules, which Pippin tore down in frustration, breaking a rule by doing so.

Frodo ordered nearby Hobbits to lock the gates, while Sam broke another rule by using more than a day's supply of wood to start a fire in the fireplace. You were the only one not doing any work. You were simply sitting on the floor, your heart heavy. Merry was outside the building, making sure the gates were locked. When he made it inside, he took you in his arms. He had noticed your discomfort and dissociated state. He rubbed your back gently and you rested against him, swallowing nervously out of fear.

The ponies moved slowly at first. It was early morning and the sky was grey. As you looked around, there was smoke in many places it should not have been. There were many buildings, ugly and not fit for the Shire. The Shire was supposed to feel like home, but instead it felt like stepping into enemy territory.

Sam was the first one to stop his pony. With loud whinnies all the rest stopped too. In front of you were two sheriffs, feathers in their caps and nervous, yet determined expressions on their faces. The sight made Frodo chuckle. The chuckle was barely contained; like it was forced out of him from the sheer absurdity of the view in front.

“What's all this then?” your brother asked and you could see Pippin bite his lip, holding back a laugh.

“You are arrested for Gate-breaking and Tearing up of Rules, and Assaulting Gate-keepers and Trespassing, and Sleeping in Shire-buildings without Leave and Bribing Guards with Food.”

You were the first to laugh loudly after Frodo began snickering. It was quick and happened immediately after your confusion and fear subsided. It was amusing, seeing these two officers taking their job so seriously, but too afraid to do anything else but speak.

Sam, Pippin and Merry kept laughing, making fun of the Hobbits in front of them. Nothing like that could shake them anymore, for they had seen so many worse things in their travels.

But Frodo was now quiet again. You looked at him and your concern returned. Though for you it was quickly gone, as some remarks and jabs Merry made had you laughing from the bottom of your stomach.

At Bywater your laughter died completely. It was your home; and it was in shambles. Many houses had been renovated into revolting, bland and shaggy buildings. Many Hobbit holes had burned down. The gardens were full of weeds, making Sam shiver from disgust and aggravation. Under his breath, Sam let out profanities and you were now dead quiet. Black smoke arose near Bag End. Hatred grew in your heart.

On your ponies, you made your way to a familiar place; the Green Dragon. But it did not look like the Inn you were used to.

The windows were broken and it seemed abandoned, but for the few armed Ruffians inside. Hanging from their belts were wooden clubs, but no other weapons in sight. Their lack of sharp weaponry calmed your nerves a little, for you knew all of you were armed much better. When the Ruffians took notice of your arrival, they rushed outdoors, threatening and cursing; to themselves and you. 

Once again, the armor on your friends made them stop their movements. You could tell from their faces that they were carefully analyzing what they had seen. A few smirks appeared - they clearly did not take small folk seriously.

And then they made fun of the Ring-Bearer.

You didn’t expect it; it ignited almost uncontrollable anger in Pippin, who then moved forward, pulling his cloak back, revealing his Gondor Armor and sword. He lifted his sword up high with pride.

“I am a messenger of the King,” Pippin said. The young Took spat out rather crude words, deeply angered by the Ruffians’ insults to Frodo, the man, the friend who Pippin greatly respected and loved.

Merry, you and Sam also rode forward to side with Pippin, revealing your weaponry. Sam and Merry pulled out their swords and Merry revealed his Rohanese armor. You finally got courageous enough and pulled your weapon out of your pocket. You flashed your knife, Sindarin words engraved in it. Frodo stayed back, quiet. With a few muttered words the Ruffians ran away, blowing their horns, the sound again irritating your delicate ears.

“Worse than the Orcs,” you muttered to yourself.

Merry moved his hand to his belt and lifted the horn of Rohan to his lips, the silver on it shining despite the clouds above. The Horn-cry of Buckland sounded in the air, calling out all Hobbits to war.

Fire! Foes! Awake!

It was a familiar call, for you had heard it on the first night of your adventure; but this time it did not summon fear. It raised your courage to the surface; and you were not the only one. The ponies whinnied, Hobbit heads poked out of hiding and there were many horns calling back. The horns’ sounds echoed in the air, reaching the ears of friends and foes.

Gathered by a large fire that was recently lit by a few encouraged Hobbits, everyone was listening to the stories of the past year that Farmer Cotton was sharing.

It was brutal; and it had all started almost immediately after you left the Shire to go after Merry. 

Farmer Cotton told of how ‘the Chief' had made home in Bag End, confirming everyone's suspicions about who the leader was; Lotho Sackville-Baggins. It was no surprise; he was not a gentlehobbit, nor was he against making money by any means possible. Frodo made a snarky comment, comparing Lotho to Smaug, eliciting a few chuckles from Pippin.

The old Farmer Cotton told some sadder news; he told how a few Shire folk had been killed by Ruffians. 

“Who?” you inquired. To your devastation, one of the victims was someone you had recently reminisced and missed; the sweet owner of the bakery. Your heart shattered and Merry reached for your hand, squeezing it. You could see the devastation in his eyes and Pippin's smile had also completely faded.

He told of how Tuckborough was inaccessible as the Thain had made sure it was well protected. Pippin was glowing with pride and at once he gathered a group of Hobbits, and began his journey to Tuckborough to gather everyone to fight; everyone knew one was about to start. Not long after that, a group of Hobbits were blazing their horns and shouting; more Ruffians were coming, and this time it was not a small group. There were many, all armed.

Merry was giving orders and once again your guts were on fire at an inappropriate moment. It was something about his new, more assertive side that ignited a fire in you. As you looked at him rushing around giving directions and planning, you thought back to the moment he calmed you down at the river when you were deep in panic. You held the brooch you had in your pocket tightly.

“How did I not realize how I felt back then?” you muttered to yourself. Your eyes met and he smiled. You smiled back. 

It was always there.

As the Ruffians approached, the fire was suffocated almost completely, creating a large, dark shadow for every Hobbit present to hide in. Among them was you, backing up and crouching, drawing out your knife. Your hand was shaking, but you were determined to stay as calm as you could. A Hobbit next to you put his hand around your wrist, steading you. You could not see him, but in a whisper you thanked him.

The only one left by the small fire was Farmer Cotton, his hands hovering over it, warming his palms. A group of Ruffians surrounded the old man, hands gripping the handles of their clubs.

“You're coming with us,” one of them threatened and they all took a step towards Cotton, their intention to capture him.

They quickly came to a halt, as they were surrounded by the sounds of weapons being pulled out. There was the creaking of bows being drawn and the clangs of swords being drawn from their scabbards. As the Ruffians looked around, startled, nearly two hundred Hobbits stepped out of the darkness, trapping them in a circle, their weapons pointed at them. 

The leader of the Ruffians, stout and ragged, gave Merry a stink eye as Merry stepped forward. You could tell the Ruffian was not afraid of any of the smaller Hobbits, but he seemed unsettled by Merry’s height - now significantly taller than any Hobbit he had seen within the borders of the Shire. You looked at Merry, proud, admiring his stature and courage. 

“If you touch him or anyone else, you will be shot at sight,” said Merry to the Ruffian leader.

And then your heart dropped. The Ruffian charged towards Merry, raising his large knife and club, trying to land a fatal blow. Your knees almost gave out, but before you had time to react, the large man's steps were cut short as four arrows pierced him deep. With a thump, the Ruffian fell down. Despite the man being already dead, there was a primal need for revenge. You gripped your knife tighter. There was a need to stab the man in the back, solely for even trying to hurt Merry. You had never felt such rage and it startled you. 

Along with other Hobbits, you tied up the Ruffians in the circle, leading them away, cursing them, trashing them, making sure they'd never return. One of the Ruffians gave you a hard time; though, not on purpose. The man had a scar that went from his neck to his mouth, and it was placed exactly where it had been on Rath too. It was almost identical and for a second when you looked into his eyes, you could see a flash of Rath in them.

Merry started to arrange look-outs and helped everyone prepare for other attacks. You waited for him patiently, your hand again on your knife, feeling weary - but ready to protect him at all costs. You spotted Merry rubbing his arm for a moment; a subtle, uncomfortable reminder of the past battle in the Pelennor Fields. You thought back to it; there had been blood everywhere. 

You looked to your left and saw the blood of the Ruffian leader on the ground. Your ears began ringing and suddenly, you felt dizzy. The Shire was spinning around you, and your hands were tingling, the sensation worsening your anxiety. The sound of your rapidly growing heartbeat was pounding in your ears.

Merry hopped off a flight of low stairs and walked up to you. He noticed your firm grip on the elvish blade. He gently put his hand on yours and looked at you. You were both now holding the handle of the knife. In his eyes was peace and reassurance, so you let him take the knife to hang on his belt. He could see it in your eyes; your trauma was starting to get you. You did not realize it at first, but in your head were many familiar faces and names: Rath, Théodred, Théoden, the Orcs. There were moments that kept replaying in the back of your mind; the moment Rath revealed his true intentions, the moment you thought you’d face the same fate as your parents, when the sword pierced you and when you thought Frodo might not make it.

He took your hand and squeezed it. You looked deep into his eyes and nodded; you were not fit to fight tonight. You were on the border of blacking out from rage and fear. If you were to fight, it might become your doom.

Merry put his hand on your lower back and began guiding you towards the Cottons’ house. To your surprise, Frodo joined the walk. Everyone stayed quiet on the path to the house. Only the sounds of the Shire preparing for battle could be heard and the weeds were rustling in the gentle wind.

You entered the home and made your way to the warm kitchen. As you sat around the table, you felt your heartbeat settle down. It was the first time in a long while you momentarily forgot about the battle behind - and the battle ahead. 

There were many things to be discussed about your travels, but other matters were more important and they pulled you out of your trance.

“What has happened?” Frodo asked, sipping some tea Lily Cotton had prepared. As you looked at his hands wrapped around the large porcelain mug, you smiled. It was like a glimpse at being back home.

The Cottons explained how Lotho had become greedy - and then even greedier, desiring more money; more power. At first the Sackville-Baggins had only shipped out pipe-weed, but as time passed, he began shipping other stuff out of the Shire, including bread, hay and wine, creating chaos and shortages on supplies and food. Tom Cotton kept explaining the circumstances and past happenings, but you were fixated on one detail: the pipe-weed being shipped out. Your heart sank. That’s why Saruman had a large stash of Longbottom Leaf. It’s what he was talking about before.

“It will serve you right when you come home, if you find things less good in the South farthing than you would like.”

Chills went through your body and fear once again pierced your heart: you realized Saruman might be in the Shire.

The next words out of Farmer Cotton’s mouth made your stomach drop and eyes shut: “The real Big Chief now is Sharkey. He recedes in Bag End.”

"It has to be Saruman ,” you thought, but could not get the words out. You kept your eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away, but they were consuming you. 

“Miss Baggins?” said a gentle voice and you opened your eyes. Lily Cotton was looking at you, concerned. Her eyes were full of warmth and her smile comforting. You looked around. Everyone’s eyes were on you now.

“I’m alright,” you lied. Merry bit his tongue, knowing fully well you were the opposite of that.

“Mrs. Cotton?” Merry spoke up. Lily’s ears perked up and she turned to Merry with a gentle smile.

“Yes, Meriadoc?” she responded. Merry gave you a soft look before opening his mouth again.

“Is it possible for her to stay here until the battle is done?” he asked - and you frowned. He was right, of course, and you had silently agreed to stay away from battle; but Merry speaking for you irked you.

“I think I’m alright with staying-” 

“Staying where?” Merry interrupted firmly and you gave him a glare, but as you looked into his blue eyes, your love for him; your need to ease his worries took over.

“In the living room,” you continued. You wanted to tell them you wanted to fight, but Merry knew better. Deep inside you knew better.

“Sweetheart,” said Lily, “you can stay in our spare bedroom or with Rosie. She’ll be staying too.”

Something about what she said made you snap.

“Are we as women not allowed to fight?” you said suddenly, not able to stop the words coming out of your mouth. Mrs. Cotton sighed and smiled gently.

“Of course you are,” she said, “but Rosie is preparing some supplies to help the wounded and could use some help. I can tell you are injured.”

She gestured towards your stomach. You looked down and noticed your shirt had hiked up and showed a little bit of scarring from the battle back in Gondor. Your face flushed and you nodded.

“I apologize,” you said and slumped, “I guess my stubbornness got the best of me. I am tired and this whole situation is wearing me out.”

“That is more than understandable,” commented Farmer Cotton. “All of you ought to get some rest for a moment.

“I think it’s for the best if I stay with her,” Merry said and reached out to rub your back gently. Tolman looked between the two of you, holding back a grin when he realized what the situation was.

“Alright,” he said and cleared his throat, slight amusement in his tone. “The spare bedroom is down the hall on the right.”

“I’ll show you the way there,” said Mrs. Cotton. She took off her apron that was covered in embroidered lilies, folding it and placing it on one of the kitchen chairs. You smiled as you saw the decorations on the apron, for it was very much on the nose.

Merry got up and offered you his hand. You took it without any hesitation, the sight forming a small smile on Lily’s face.

“What about you, Frodo?” she asked. “You should rest too.”

“I’ll be fine on the arm chair,” he said and took another sip of his tea. Frodo was absent minded, but you decided not to dwell on it too much.

You woke up at the first morning light. You reached to your left to poke Merry awake, but found that side of the bed empty. Merry was not there. You sat up, patting the empty side in panic.

“Merry?” you called. No answer.

You got up and began putting your leathery bodice back on. The brown laces were tangled together, one after the other refusing to set in their places. You let out a frustrated cry and tossed the clothing on the floor, rushing out of the small bedroom, tightening your shirt with a knot so it would not fall out of place. You noticed Frodo had gotten up too. Your breath quickened and you burst out of the front door into the cool morning, Frodo’s confused face meeting you there.

“You’re awake,” he said, surprised to see you in such an agitated state.

“Why did he not wake me up?” you said, tone full of fright. You rubbed the fabric of your skirt firmly. “Where did he go, Frodo?”

“He went for a look-out hours ago,” he responded and you let out a soft, panicked whimper. “Hey, I’m sure he is alright. He can take care of himself. No Ruffian will dare to get close to him and his sword.”

You nodded, but did not believe a word. You slumped down on the front stairs and hugged your knees, bouncing your legs up and down, impatiently waiting.

It was 10 am when you saw him approach. Your heart leaped into your throat and you stood up, holding your skirt a little and walking to him, pouting.

“There is a large group of Ruffians approaching. Maybe a hundred.”

Despite him bearing such awful news, your first reaction was to give a firm swat at his shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?” he yelped, rubbing his arm.

“You wake me up when you leave at times like this!” you lectured. He gave you a toothy grin.

“You were worried, huh?” he said smugly and you crossed your arms.

“Of course I was!” you cried. He smiled and wrapped his arms around you, squeezing tightly. You did not hug him back, but you were holding back a relieved smile. “You should get whooped for that,” you muttered and he let out a hearty laugh.

When he let go of you, his face grew serious again. He gave a briefing for Frodo, who immediately got on his pony. Merry was about to climb his pony as well, when he paused and turned back to you. He saw your furrowed brows and noticed how you were fidgeting with your skirt again.

“You don’t need to worry,” he reassured. You nodded, but were holding back tears. Your heart was breaking; you were terrified for him. For your brother. For your friends. For the Shire.

“Will you come back?” you asked. He gently put his hands on your cheeks, cupping your face. He looked deep into your eyes, frowning at the sight of your surfacing tears.

“Of course I will,” he responded.

“Promise?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I promise,” he whispered and gently put his lips on the tip of your nose. You smiled faintly and then he pressed his lips softly against yours, moving them in a gentle rhythm for a few seconds before pulling away. You inhaled sharply as he let go of you and mounted his pony.

“Merry?” you called before he rode off with your brother.

“Yes?” he responded.

“Kick their asses.”

Merry laughed loudly and bowed dramatically.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Every now and then there were roars, clashings of knives and cries of help. The cloths you were cutting to make bandages became more uneven the more time passed and Rosie grew concerned about you. She smiled.

“They are brave and strong,” she suddenly said and you turned to look at her. Rosie’s eyes were sparkling with hope and her curls were very intact - almost like she was preparing to impress someone. 

“They are,” you responded. 

It was not peaceful. The Battle of Bywater - as it became called - was in ways brutal and cost the lives of a few hobbits. Many Ruffians were slain, some chased out of the Shire, most likely to meet their doom outside. Many of them were shot with arrows; a lot of them were shot by Tooks and Brandybucks, who were very familiar and experienced with using such weaponry. Merry slew the other leader of the Ruffians, who according to him when he later told you, looked like a huge orc. The Ruffian had caused dread in him and some memories had flashed before his eyes, but he was determined and the Ruffian faced his demise.

When the last of the Ruffians were wagoned off and buried in a sand pit (later called the Battle Pit), you joined a large group of Hobbits to the hill-side, where the fallen Hobbits were laid together in a grave. It was a quiet event, and many parts of you were disconnected from reality in order to manage through it. Your mind was a haze and all you could hear was the shovel hitting the ground, the crumbling of the earth when the shovels were moved and the huffs and puffs of older Hobbits.

Every Hobbit was dressed beautifully and laid to rest with honor. You looked at a familiar face of an old lady for a while before kneeling down to grab some soil, gently pouring it, some of it dropping on her white dress. There was a lump in your throat when you turned around, not able to deal with the burial any longer.

You looked to your right and saw Estella Bolger with her head hung low, walking slowly away from the grave-site. You felt your heart fill with pity, for she too looked broken by it all. She sniffled and raised her head, looking at you, then away and then back at you, realizing you were staring back at her.

You gave her a soft smile. She smiled back.

You froze at Sam's cry.

“They've cut down the Party Tree!”

It was true. It laid there, in pieces, torn, shredded, dead. You shed a tear at the sight, sorrow taking over you once more. This was home and it was then when you realized it truly had been destroyed. It seemed for a moment that despite having won the battle, everything was ripped from you again. For a moment you held it together, despite a few tears. And then Sam burst into tears - it was his final straw. All you could do was hold him by his arm, squeezing and reassuring him that it was going to get better soon, all while sobbing yourself.

There were piles of refuse everywhere at Bag End. The yard was full of hideous, ragged sheds and the green front door was scarred. Slowly Frodo opened the door and stepped in, and the air was filled with disgusting smells of rot, dust, smoke and dirt. Bag End stank, for it was full of filth.

Merry entered. So did Sam and Pippin. You did not dare. The stench kept you at bay and you feared what might be waiting inside; other than your childhood wrecked into pieces. 

“It's worse than Mordor,” you heard Sam say and you raised an eyebrow at the comment. You did not have time to call back with something snarky, because a boney, long hand touched your shoulder and sent chills through your spine. You looked up and there he was again; Saruman in all his filth, and by his feet, Gríma Wormtongue, looking at you again, though there was sadness in his eyes, even if they seemed empty, no longer holding much emotion.

Past Saruman's shoulder you saw Merry. He locked eyes with you briefly before he disappeared from your sight. 

They were fortunately not the only Hobbits in Bag End for long. Many were prepared with bows and arrows, some with rock and stone. You tried to see past the herd of Hobbits, but it was no use. You wanted to see what was going on, but could not enter. Your feet were glued to the ground.

Scatter of metal. Whoosh. Thump.

Someone was pierced with arrows, something was broken and someone slumped to the ground. And another one. You did not get scared this time; not for your friends or anyone else, for none of the Hobbits in your sight reacted much. Hope grew in you that Saruman had been slain and soon your wishes were proven to be true, as a grey smoke-like mist gathered and rose slowly, looming over the Hill, dissolving into nothing as the wind came, washing away the filth of Saruman once and for all.

Spring came. Flowers and trees bloomed, birds sang and there was a Party Tree slowly growing in the place where the old one once stood. Sam had grown the Shire back into a beautiful garden, and the fresh smell of roses was everywhere. Many were thankful for his effort in the floral area, as others were fixated on repairing all the Hobbit holes and tearing down the houses Saruman had ordered to be built. Of course, one of the reasons the spring was so fruitful was due to Galadriel's gift to Sam; earth from her garden and a single Mallorn seed; one which he used to grow the new Party Tree. Galadriel's gift also gave many Hobbits born that year golden locks; ones which were rare among halflings.

You watched as mothers held their newborns, all the while their older children ran around, giggling, carefree and their hair getting messy in the wind.

You looked at one of the babies closer to you. She was comfortably laying on her mothers lap, cooing, sucking his own fingers and looking at his own toes, barely any hair on her soon-to-be large feet. Her eyes were grey and the little hair she had on her small head was golden, the curls tight and bouncy. The baby started smiling, and you smiled softly to yourself, wondering if you were to ever have one and if they would have Galadriel's golden hair.

You soon moved out of Brandy Hall and into Crickhollow with Merry - and Pippin. Their bond had grown stronger through the year and so had yours with them. It was not always ideal to have Pippin around, for he tended to interrupt many intimate moments; and it was not just once or twice. 

The sun was golden and the air was warm. It was humid and the birds seemed to be singing louder than before, the high pitch and beautiful tones spreading glee. The Shire roared with laughter and happiness, hope having rekindled among the little folk. 

You were busy, hands covered in flour and dipped in dough. You were massaging it gently in the large bowl, almost tipping it over a few times. There was the smell of yeast and salt in the air, a hint of freshly cut grass drifting in from the open window.

You lifted the dough out of the bowl and dropped it down on the table with a loud smack.  You reached for the rolling pin and began moving it roughly, the dough flattening and stretching. You made it as square as you could with your baking skills and began cutting it into smaller squares, pressing diagonal lines lightly on them.

“Looks familiar,” said Merry, startling you. You put your hand over your heart. Merry caught a glimpse of the scar you got back before the journey - back when a storm hit the Shire and you cut your palm in porcelain, while helping with the cleanup. He smiled, reminiscing.

“You need to start warning me when you walk in,” you said, heart pounding slightly faster than usual due to fright.

“Nah,” he responded with nonchalance and put one of his hands on your hips as he walked behind you, pressing himself against you, “I prefer teasing you and surprising you.”

He gently moved your loose bun to the side of your neck and pressed his lips on the soft skin near your ear. You squirmed involuntarily and let out a light-hearted giggle.

“What are you doing?” you laughed. You could feel him grin against your skin as he planted more soft pecks on the back of your neck.

“What do you think I'm doing?” he murmured in a sultry tone and squeezed your hip, making you jump slightly, eliciting another laugh out of you.

“Merry!” you cried with a wide grin and spun around, allowing him to gently pin you between the edge of the counter and his body. “Inappropriate,” you tutted, giving him a soft wink, putting your hands on his waist, gently massaging his shirt between your fingertips.

He smiled and looked down at the brooch pinned to your chest. He moved his fingers along the petals of it delicately, not able to hide his joy.

“You're wearing it,” he said.

“Yes,” you responded. You had not worn it since the battle of Bywater. It had reminded you too much of everything you had lost and it seemed like every time you touched the daisy, it gave you a sense of dread. But that morning as you looked outside and saw the bright-red chested bird with a grey back, you felt at ease. It was a familiar bird; one that you had seen a little over a year ago while walking to meet Merry and Pippin at the bakery.

“It looks nice on you,” he said and once more traced the edges of it with his forefinger. Then he smirked to himself and turned his gaze back to you. “You know what else would look nice on you?”

“Merry!” you gasped and laughed.

“Mhm, exactly. Me”

Your laughter grew louder and he pressed himself more firmly against you. His lips met yours; softly at first and then fiery. Your tongues intertwined and his hand roamed to your thigh, tugging at your skirt. You giggled against his lips and moved so that he could pull your skirt up.

“That's certainly a way to bake,” said Pippin suddenly. Merry pulled his lips away from yours and sighed. You threw your head back and groaned loudly. It was barely a scare; you had gotten used to it.

“Hello, Pippin,” you said, voice low. 

“What are you making?” asked Pippin, casually walking closer. You and Merry moved a little bit away from each other to cool off. Pippin's nose twitched as he smelled the air and glanced at the batter spread out like a sheet. “Smells like bread.”

“It might, considering I am making bread.”

“Funny, because I could’ve sworn you were about to make babies,” Pippin said. Your cheeks and ears flushed deep red and Merry gave him a soft and playful, yet frustrated push. Pippin laughed loudly and reached for the raw dough, taking a piece, munching on it happily.

“Thief,” you said with a smirk. Pippin mumbled something incoherent and pointed at the dough. You asked him to repeat himself, so he swallowed the dough in his mouth and cleared his throat.

“It looks like Lembas,” Pippin said, his voice now clear. 

“Oh, yes,” you said and looked at your almost oven-ready bread. You tightened your low bun, a few curls bouncing free. “I have been trying to replicate it. When I had some in Rivendell, I got the craving for it.”

“This is better,” said Pippin, trying to reach for more before you gave his arm a slap to stop him from stealing more dough. Pippin continued: “Trust me. After you live off Elvish bread for a month, it gets tiring.”

“Tell me about it,” said Merry, while fixing his shirt. You had managed to crinkle it a little during the heat of the moment.

“Well, I want something similar. This is the closest I've gotten.”

“Well, keep up the good work,” said Pippin and gave you two thumbs up while walking away towards his room. “Sorry for interrupting your… master baking. ”

“Pippin!” you cried. 

When Pippin left you turned to look at Merry again.

“Sometimes it’s a pain in the ass to have him live here,” you said and Merry nodded, chuckling.

“It is, but it’s also a blessing, isn’t it?” he responded.

“Barely,” you joked and made Merry’s grin widen. He looked at the daisy brooch again.

“It’s nice to see you wearing it again,” he said and you smiled. “It suits your eyes.”

“Does it?” you asked with glee. He looked to the sides of your face and tilted his head, admiring. 

“You look like a little butterfly when your ears do that,” he said, eyes glimmering with love and mischief. You put your hands over your fluttering ears.

“Stop it!” 

“I will not,” he grinned and wrapped his arms around you, as you tried to playfully run off. 

“No!” you squealed and let out a roar of laughter as he lifted you up and spun you around. He held you in the air effortlessly, his muscular arms encircling you and his fingertips tickling your sides. You could not stop giggling and the sound of your laughter was like music to Merry’s ears. The sight of your uncontrollably wiggling ears made his heart soar and he began pressing affectionate kisses on your cheek as he slowly put you back down on your feet. Your giggles still didn’t subside, but you leaned into his touch.

“It is a beautiful brooch,” you said softly and looked at him with a wide smile and stars in your eyes. He smiled back at you and nodded. “I’m sorry for not wearing it for so long.”

“I understand,” he said and pressed his lips against the skin of your cheek delicately. 

“It just-”

“Reminded you of everything,” Merry said, finishing what you were about to say.

“Yes,” you said and looked down, “it reminded me of everything.”

“How about now?” he asked, looking at you softly. You smiled.

“It just reminds me of you,” you said to him, “and the way you make me feel.”

“And how do I make you feel?” he asked, gazing into your eyes.

“Like my heart will burst out of my chest.”

He gave you a toothy grin and kissed you, pouring all his love into it, leaning against you more and squeezing you tight. His touch gave you a sense of purpose and hope for the future. You hoped he’d be there beside you for a long time.

Chapter Text

All you could hear was low humming and faint splashing. The sky above you was almost baby blue and the sun peeked from behind the clouds more often now than earlier that day. Your fingertips created small ripples in the water and as you let the waves cradle and rock you back and forth in a soothing motion, you felt at peace. It was like the whole world around you was shut out as your ears lowered below the surface and as your eyes drifted shut, all your senses seemed to quiet down and your body relaxed, making you feel one with the water.

Gently, he brushed his fingertips against yours and you turned your head to the left, meeting Merry's adoring gaze as he floated beside you from the opposite direction. He had stars in his eyes and as the sunlight caught his face, his eyes turned strikingly blue. Softly your lips curled up into a smile and he returned it with a wide grin of his own; one full of pride. You could see his lips move, but the water muted the words he spoke. You lifted your head up slightly, a splash deafening for you a split second before your senses returned to their usual state.

“What?” you asked and Merry chuckled.

“I asked how you are feeling,” he repeated, still smiling.

“Relaxed.”

“And you look it,” he said and gently drifted closer to you on his back, his face now mere inches away from yours. “I'm proud of you, you know?”

“Thank you,” you said and gave him a shy smile, his eyes searching for yours. 

He pulled his body up and his feet found the muddy riverbed.

“How do you feel about going to the Green Dragon for a few ales?” he asked, gazing down at you lovingly and shaking the worst of the water off his blond curls.

“Give me a minute more, yeah?” you said, turning to face the sky again and closing your eyes. Merry smiled to himself and nodded, slowly wading to the more shallow part of the Brandywine to give you some peace.

Once again the sounds from below the surface were there, filling you with a sense of newlyfound calm.

It was weeks later when Frodo and Merry were sitting in the Inn waiting for you. Frodo clinked his wooden tankard against Merry's, a toothy grin on his face. You entered the Green Dragon in your favorite yellow dress, with your hands resting in its pockets, your hair loose but for a few smaller braids here and there, tied with white and yellow ribbons. 

As you entered, Merry could have sworn the lights in the room dimmed and an ethereal glow surrounded you. Of course it was not so, but whenever he saw you it was like the rest of Middle-Earth disappeared for him. He could hear naught but the loud beating of his own heart and all he could think of was your radiant smile.

You met his gaze and waved, almost as gleefully as you used to when you were just a little fauntling. He waved back and Frodo raised his tankard, inviting you to sit down with them.

“Pippin told me I should meet you two here,” you said, sitting down, gently lifting your dress a little to get more comfortable. Merry's eyes were glued to your legs for a second or two, and you had to nudge him with your elbow to pull him back to reality. He shook his thoughts off and smiled to himself. From the corner of your eye you saw Frodo roll his eyes, but you could see he was delighted to see you happy.

“Glad you could make it,” Merry said and pressed his lips on your cheek gently. A small blush spread at the spot where his lips had met your skin, and on Merry's face you could see smugness; he was so proud of still making you blush after a year.

“Any special occasion?” you asked and both of them shook their heads in unison.

“Just wanted to see you,” Frodo responded. 

“I do miss you,” you said and grabbed Merry's tankard, stealing a sip for yourself. Merry's mouth gaped open and he let out an exaggerated gasp of horror. You just smirked from behind the tankard and kept drinking, soon giving up with the teasing and handing it back to him. 

“I miss you too,” Frodo said, “hence, the invite.”

“I'm sorry for not visiting you as often,” you said and Frodo waved it off.

“You're busy and live further away. It's more than alright.”

“How have you been doing this past month or so?” you asked him.

“Alright,” he responded. 

You knew he was lying.

“That's good,” you responded despite the fact. Your brother smiled at you and you back at him. It was no use to fight it; you knew he would not tell you the truth. It was the Ring. It was always the Ring and the burden of it haunting him, tiring him. 

“I do have your old room set for you,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Yes, but do not feel pressured to come. I know it's a lot to handle, young Elanor around and all.”

“You know I love her,” you responded and Merry snorted. You nudged him gently. “It's true!”

“No, no,” Merry said, hands up in surrender, “I believe you.”

Both of them looked at you expectantly. You groaned.

“She just cries so much.”

“There it is,” Merry said and laughed, pressing an affectionate smooch on the top of your hair. At the sight of the two of you, Frodo smiled again. He was indeed happy for you. More than you knew.

Hours and hours went by, until the moon was up in the sky and the stars bright and glimmering. Frodo excused himself, telling how he had many chores to do at home. He left the Green Dragon, but not before giving you a long, lingering hug. It was not the way he usually hugged you: one hand on your back, stroking calmingly. This hug was tighter, more affectionate. As you pulled away from the hug, you could see the pure brotherly love in his eyes.

“I'll see you later,” you said to him and he responded with a simplistic: “Mhm.”

Merry turned your way to look properly into your eyes, his grin wide and nose twitching.

“What?” you asked, letting out a faint, confused chuckle. 

“Just happy to have you in my life,” he responded.

“Well, aren't you full of love tonight.”

“You think so?” he asked and laughed.

“Your nose is twitching,” you said, pointing at his nose.

“Well,” he said and brushed his nose with the back of his hand, “I think your expressive ears have rubbed off on me. Making my nose all twitchy when I'm excited or nervous.”

“Oh, you're nervous? What has got you in its grip?”

Merry's mouth opened and then closed. He shook his head. 

“Nothing.”

“You're blushing.”

“You're blushing,” he protested weakly, stammering. You laughed softly.

“I am not! What's going on, Merry?”

“Nothing! I'm just… you look gorgeous in that dress!” he said.

“Oh? Is that so?” you grinned.

“Shut up,” he huffed and turned his gaze away - though not before taking a peek at your legs.

“You're impossible,” you said in return. He smiled and downed more ale. As he put his tankard down, it let out a loud ‘bonk’ as it hit the table, Merry putting more force into it than intended.

You looked at his hands. The other was gripping the handle of his drink almost bruisingly tight and his other hand was on the table, his fingers tapping against the wood.

“Are you sure you're alright?” you asked, a little concerned.

“Yes, yes. I just… It's getting dark and cold, and I have my book and pipe at the cornfield.”

“What on Middle-Earth are they doing there?” you asked, slightly amused.

“I forgot them, alright?” he sighed, tapping the table more and more; faster and louder. “Left my bag there by accident.”

“Why is it making you act like… this?” you said, emphasizing the last word by pointing at his nervous fiddling. It caused him to immediately pull his hands on his lap.

“Just… trauma and all,” he responded, your heart sinking at the implications of his traumas pressing on him again.

“Oh.”

“Can you come with me?”

“Where? To get your stuff?” you asked.

“Yes. I’m having one of those days when the darkness feels a tad overwhelming and haunting.”

“Alright,” you answered, needing to ask no further questions. “Let's go then.”

You stood up quickly, fixing your dress and brushing your fingers through your locks. Merry's gaze followed your every movement intensely before he got up as well.

“You know the way,” he said, gesturing for you to walk out first. You smiled at him. As you started to stride out and took a look at him over your shoulder, you noticed he was carrying a small bag. 

“Isn't that your bag?”

He looked down at his hand, holding a small bag made of granny squares.

“Oh, well, yes, but this is supposed to be in the other bag, you see?” he responded and smiled.

You raised your brow and nodded. 

“Alright.”

“You don't believe me?” he asked.

“No, no, I do.”

You were doubting him; not in a serious way, but something in your guts made you think he might not have been telling the truth.

And Merry could tell.

“I'm not lying. I really did leave the stuff there.”

“I said I believe you!” you laughed, the sound light and ringing.

He huffed and the two of you walked out the door into the cool night air, the loud familiar sounds of the Green Dragon Inn drowning behind you.

“M'lady?” he said and offered you his arm. With a chuckle you grabbed it and rested against him. 

His presence made you feel safe. It was more than just a habit to hold onto him in one way or another while walking together; it was a reflex. Your souls were intertwined and nothing gave your heart more joy than being as close to Merry as possible.

It was a long walk. Your feet had grown accustomed to walking during the war, making the journey to the cornfield easier for the both of you.

The dark sky was still full of diamond-like stars and the moon was lighting your path to the familiar safe space Merry had once shown you. 

“Tell me the truth,” you said suddenly. 

“What?” he asked and stopped walking, turning to look at you.

“You didn't leave your bag. Why are we here?”

“I did leave my bag,” he responded.

“Merry.”

“I did! Let's just go and get it. Then we can head home.”

“I know there's something else going on. You're all nervous and…”

“What?” he chuckled, taken aback by your comment.

“Are you ending things? I know it's all poetic to bring me back here and, I can tell something is bothering you! I don't—”

“Sweetheart!” Merry panicked and grabbed you by your shoulders. “Why would I leave you?”

“Because I'm flawed! I don't know how you've put up with me for so long. So if you're going to do it, just do it!”

“What? You're talking nonsense! Why are you suddenly freaking out?” he asked, voice slightly raised, but from concern, not anger.

“I'm not freaking out!” you cried, almost furiously.

But you were. Something had triggered a sense of dread in you. Your heartbeat quickened and your head was hammering. Your cheeks were heating up and your fingers were shaking. His nervous fidgeting - very uncommon for Merry - had made you uneasy and the feeling was building up in your heart, your mind in an overdrive, creating chaotic scenarios out of your worst fears.

“Sweetheart,” Merry said and took your hands in his. His lips were again curled up and his gaze was intense. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“How can I know for sure?”

“I just wish you'd trust me. Do you trust me?”

You thought of it for a few seconds.

Of course you did.

After you gave him a nod, he chuckled and took you in his arms, peppering your head with affectionate kisses.

“You're a silly one. Come on.”

“Are you sure nothing is going on?” you asked, frowning, but your fears were shut down by Merry.

“Yes, now come on,” he said with a gentle laugh, walking in front of you and guiding you through the long stalks of corn.

The mud was slightly moist, sticking to the soles of your feet a little more than usual. It would have been dark between the greens, but the moon was so bright you could even see the shadows of the longest stalks looming over Merry's figure. The ground let out wet squelches as the two of you walked.

Finally, you arrived at the opening. Merry put his feet up on those ridges on the cold rock that was so familiar to you. You followed right behind him, your hand brushing against his foot on a few occasions as you climbed. Every time your fingers swished past his foot, he giggled. You had learned many new things about Merry in the past year, and one of them was just how ticklish he was. You couldn't help yourself and tickled him a few times on purpose. He simply let out a few more giggles and finally, disappeared from your view for a few seconds as he got up on top of the rock.

Soon Merry's hand was reaching towards you and instead of the back of his head, your face met his, wide smiles on both your faces. When you grabbed his hand, you could feel it still slightly tremble.

“Are you sure you're alright?” you asked one more time. He nodded and started pulling you up, his knees steady on the large rock.

You let him help you up, his other hand supporting you by your lower back. 

The sight was comforting, familiar and beautiful, although the corn stalks were blocking some of the view, for they had grown taller than they used to be, thanks to a gift Lady Galadriel had given Sam Gamgee, who had gardened the Shire back to health. 

“See?” Merry said and picked up his brown bag from the rock, showing it to you. 

“Fine,” you admitted, arms crossed. He grinned.

“You're not good at admitting your mistakes,” he teased and you just groaned playfully.

You looked behind him and saw an orange light. Merry smiled and walked to you, putting one arm around you. He pointed at the direction of the light.

“That right there,” he said, “is a bonfire in the making.”

“Is it now?” you asked. “Why? It's not yet time for any big celebrations.”

“There's a big celebration for Sandyman's birthday. He is turning celebratory old.”

"How old is he turning?” you asked.

“Eight… six… ninety… oh, who knows! Anyway, I think it'll look beautiful from here.”

“I do love bonfires,” you said, already admiring the rising fire and sparks in the distance.

“I know you do,” Merry responded smugly, smiling at your back. “What a stroke of luck that I forgot my stuff, huh?”

“Sure, luck.”

You smiled to yourself. It did seem planned, but you paid no mind; the view was almost hauntingly beautiful. 

Something about the element of fire also had started to give you comfort. It used to remind you of the war and of Rath - it still did sometimes, but the warmth and beauty of it lit a fire inside you, that made you feel undefeatable. Brave.

“So, do you like it?” Merry said behind you as you stood on the other side of the rock.

“The fire? Of course I do.”

“I figured you might, even though it's for Sandyman.”

“Oh,” you chuckled absent mindedly. “He's not that bad.”

“He can be quite awful,” Merry responded behind you.

“Mhm,” you muttered, now fully focused on the bonfire and the smoke rising from it.

It was very far, but you could still see the flames dancing against each other, flashing, wiggling, smoothly twirling. Bright colors of orange and red, bringing a sparkle into your eyes.

“Hey,” Merry said, though you did not hear him call for you.

The breeze was blowing your hair off your face and it was growing the fire in the distance. You could hear a faint cheer somewhere at the party, carried by the wind in your ears. 

“They must be having a blast,” you muttered softly. 

“I'm sure they are, but hey–”

“I wonder if Sandyman is even enjoying this? you asked. “Does he care for stuff like this?”

“I don't know, really. Do you think you could–”

“And is Pippin there?” you wondered out loud. “After what happened in Minas Tirith, he must be afraid of large fires!”

“I'm sure he is alright, but–”

“Oh, and what about poor Frodo? Though, he doesn't go out much anymore.”

“Uh huh.”

“I wonder if Sam and Rosie took Elanor there to celebrate? It must be amazing for a child to see this stuff for the first time.”

Merry chuckled softly somewhere behind you.

“I'd like something like that to have been my first memory.”

“Yeah?” he said, stifling a laugh, smiling to himself.

“Yes,” you responded, admiring the flames. “I am not sure what my first memory is. Maybe when I got my first toy from Bilbo. I don't remember much before… you know.”

“I think one of my first memories was with you,” he said. “Trying to tickle you. You running off all scared and weepy.”

“Hey! You and Pippin teased me a lot,” you tutted over your shoulder.

Merry laughed loudly, sighing.

“What are you laughing at back there?” you asked, still admiring the bonfire from afar.

“I've been like this for like five minutes. Would you please just turn around?” 

He was chuckling, breathless and full of joy.

You turned around and looked at Merry. Though, he was not standing where you had left him and his face was more gleeful, his eyes sparkling like the stars above you. His left knee was bent and his right one was pressed against the surface of the rock, his posture wobbling from trying to keep his balance while trying to get you to turn around for the better half of several minutes. His hands were resting lazily on his leg, but when he saw you finally turn around, he lifted them back up like they had been when you didn't see, a small wooden box in his calloused hands, and a ring in it.

Your heart let out a loud thump and your thighs tingled from nervousness. Your eyes widened and your ears twitched at once. You didn't even realize it, but your hands began to shake and you placed them near your heart.

“Merry?” you asked, quiet and breathless.

He laughed.

“My knee hurts, so let me just ask this.”

“Merry, I–”

“Shush!” he said with his finger up and laughed gleefully. “First of all; yes, I lied. I did leave my stuff here on purpose, and yes, I was feeling nervous. I am deeply sorry for that, but all of this is besides the point. The point is that… ever since I met you, I saw the world as a happy place. Sure, I was just a kid, but your presence and our shenanigans always brought more joy to me than anything else in my life. Any time I saw you, all I wanted was to make you laugh and see you smile. Nothing in my life has ever compared to how accomplished it has made me feel - being someone who can make you laugh. No one else ever felt right for me. No one else could make me laugh the way you do, or make me feel as relaxed and appreciated as you. It's always felt like the Valar gave me a purpose in life, and that purpose has always been to make you happy. It took me too many girls and too much time to see what has always been right in front of me, and when I finally looked at you the way I had always been meant to look at you… when I finally dared to take the leap and look at you that way, it was like… I found the final purpose. Not just making you laugh or smile. Just you. You're my purpose.”

“Merry…”

“Not once have I spent a day in my life not thinking about you. You're always on my mind. Every morning I wake up with you is a blessing and reminds me of just how lucky I am. I love you. More than I've ever loved anyone or anything. Please, will you—”

“Merry,” you said with a shaky voice.

“-- let me finish?” he chuckled. 

“Sorry,” you whispered and he smiled. 

“Will you make me the happiest halfling in all of Middle-Earth and marry me?”

His hands were shaking. You could tell it by the way the ring box was moving back and forth. So were yours. Your heart was pounding and ears were ringing. 

Was it in a bad way?

You looked at Merry and nodded, your ears fluttering like butterfly wings.

It was not in a bad way.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, breathless.

You nodded again and walked, stretching your arms towards him. He responded by standing up; albeit clumsily from kneeling down for so long, and flung his arms around you, squeezing you tightly against his body, smiling ear to ear, burying his face in your neck. You let out a giggle through your tears of joy.

“Yes, yes. Absolutely, affirmatively, yes.”

“That's quite a few yeses,” he murmured against your hair and laughed.

“Just put the ring on me, dummy!” you laughed and pulled back slightly.

He took the ring from the box shakily and with his free hand he took your hand in it, gently supporting it. He searched for your ring finger and gently pushed the engagement ring on it, the yellow rock on it shining underneath the moonlight. His gaze was on the ring he had gotten, but yours was on his face.

Shadows were on it, the features notably less boyish after the effects of the Ent-draught, but you could still notice the soft plumps of his cheeks, and his nose was just as round as it had always been. His ears were burning red from affection and even though his freckles were not visible in the dark, you could see him blushing. 

You looked at the ring, which was now sitting there on your finger, making home. It was golden, the band thin and elegant, and the jewel on it was almost bright yellow, surrounded by more silver in the shape of an oval. It was simplistic, yet bold. 

“It's beautiful,” you said softly.

“You like it?” Merry asked, letting out a sniffle and wiping a tear off his cheek.

“I love it,” you said. Your hand snaked its way to the nape of his neck and your lips embraced his own appreciatively.

He pulled you into a warm embrace, the heat of his body meeting yours in the cool night air, the wind blowing through your curls, messing them up.

But you did not care. 

Rosie tightened the large, silky white bow that was keeping the braids together on the back of your head.

“Is this too tight?” she asked and you shook your head.

“No, it's alright,” you responded, staring outside the window in front of you. 

“If you ask me, you should put it right on top of your head,” said Pippin and smirked, pointing at your head. “It would make you look proper.”

“Shut up,” you groaned. On any other day the young Took's sarcastic remarks and teasing would've made you laugh, but this was not one of those days.

You felt like a wreck. Your stomach was churning and it created some rather uncomfortable issues; that is, constantly having to use the loo. Your back was damp with sweat, but thankfully the Burrows had created a dress for you that had more of an open back, so the breeze could reach your skin and the extra room to breathe would give you less anxiety, regarding how the fabric might feel on your wedding day.

“Hey, there's no need to be nervous,” Pippin said, his arms resting widely on the back of the couch and his legs stretched out front and wide.

“Of course not,” you responded. “I'm quite alright, actually.”

Pippin stood up and walked in front of you, hands in the pockets of his brown breeches.

“You'll get past the nerves,” he said and smiled. “It's Merry you're marrying. Not some dingdong from Tuckborough.

“Do you mean you?” you joked.

“No, but thank you for the compliment.”

“You look beautiful,” Rosie chimed in, carefully placing wild daisies in your hair. The two of you had grown closer since the Battle of Bywater. “There's no need to be nervous.”

“It's not how I look or about who I marry,” you said.

“What is it then?” asked Rosie, gently caressing your hair to calm you down.

You took a deep breath and looked outside the window, where a large crowd of Hobbits were making their way to the open area that was decorated with bouquets, candles and earth-toned ornaments. You could smell the fish pies Frodo had baked and could hear the clinks of glasses from the most impatient Hobbits. You looked at Pippin again. He smiled softly. If somebody knew you as well as your brother or beloved, it was Peregrin.

“It's too many people, isn't it?” he said.

“Yes.”

“Oh, honey,” said Rosie, frowning and resting her chin on your shoulder from behind, gently embracing you. “It'll be alright.”

You leaned into her hug and Pippin took your hand, which you squeezed gently. You exhaled shakily, moved away from their embraces and walked to the window, gesturing outside.

“I mean,” you scoffed anxiously,” I don't even know half these people.”

“You know them!” Pippin sighed and stared at you, his gaze full of pity.

“I know their names,” you said, “but not them.”

Pippin frowned and after a moment of silence, he nodded. Rosie had come back into your space and was fixing the hem of your dress.

“It's fine, Rosie!” you barked and Rosie looked up at you, her eyes widened. You pressed your palm to your forehead and closed your eyes. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

“It's alright,” Rosie said with a smile and stood up again. “Now, let's see how you look.”

She stepped in front of you and looked at you from head to toe. 

“You look absolutely stunning.” she said and you smiled, though it was only a small curl upwards at the corner of your lips.

Pippin stared at you for a little bit before he smiled toothily.

“You look great. Merry is a lucky man!”

You smiled at him and let out a trembling chuckle. Pippin and Rosie exchanged glances and Pippin excused himself.

“Where are you going?” you said and grabbed his wrist. “Please, don't leave me.”

“I'm just going to go see how Merry is doing,” he chuckled and gently removed your hand off his wrist. “You'll be alright for a few minutes, yeah?”

You exhaled again and gave him a shaky nod. Pippin smiled, gave a pat on your back and exited the room. 

It was a long hallway between you and Merry. It gave you a feeling of comfort that you knew he couldn't hear the severe anxiety looming over you.

“You'll be alright,” Rosie said and gently guided you to sit down.

Not much time passed when Pippin entered the room again.

“How is he?” you asked.

“Merry is doing just fine,” Pippin said with a wide, goofy smile. “I think he's a little nervous, but keeping it together quite well.”

“That's good,” you said. Your fingers were sinking into the fabric of your dress, the puffy skirt ruffled from your grip.

“Do you need to take a breather?” Pippin asked and you let out a relieved sigh.

Yes, please.”

Pippin and Rosie both helped you up and walked outside with you. The air was still, the sun was shining and the skies were light blue, clear of clouds and around you you could hear the bubbling of a river and the chirping of the last birds before they would leave for winter.

You closed your eyes and inhaled deep, the cold air flowing through your nostrils and the nervous weight on your chest easing up a bit. You wiggled your toes in the short grass. It tickled you, but the sensation of it seemed to calm your nerves down.

“Want to take a walk?” Pippin asked. You opened your eyes and took his arm, your other hand taking Rosie's arm instead.

The grass was covered in brown, orange, golden and yellow leaves, curled up and dry from the warm, crisp fall that had blessed the Shire. The leaves crunched loudly as you walked on them. The loudest noises of the wedding crowd drowned in the background as you strolled further away, your anxiety easing up. When you turned the corner, Merry was standing there with a smile.

“Oh!” you squealed and ran behind Rosie, gripping her shoulders. “You're not supposed to see me in a dress before the ceremony!”

“Close your eyes, Brandybuck!” Rosie said firmly, but Merry just smiled and crossed his arms. 

He was wearing the same trousers as he often did, brown and held up by suspenders. He had a white shirt on, but his sleeves were not rolled up as they usually were. On top of the shirt was a white vest and in its pocket a forest green handkerchief. 

“You look beautiful,” he said nonchalantly and smirked, looking at you crouching behind the Cotton girl.

“Stop looking!” you whined.

Merry kept smiling and offered you his hand, gesturing behind him with his head. 

“Come on,” he said. You looked behind him, and to your (and Rosie's) surprise, there was a small cleared area under a walnut tree. 

Sam stood there, in his arms young Elanor, her hair more curly than sheep's wool. Next to Sam was Frodo, smiling proudly - and slightly mischievously, dressed up in his best clothes. Next to Frodo was Fatty Bolger, smiling and for once not disheveled in the slightest. There was no one else, just the Hobbits closest to you and Merry. 

“What's this?” you asked, astounded and rising from behind Rosie, who looked as puzzled as you. She walked to her husband and gave him an affectionate kiss on his cheek. Sam blushed and handed Elanor - who was cooing very loudly - over to Rosie.

“You see, I, Peregrin Took, in my infinite wisdom,” started Pippin. 

“Pippin said you were feeling anxious about the crowd out there so I figured we should come here and uh…”

“Merry?” you asked, trying to prompt him to continue.

His gaze was fixed on your face, his eyes roaming your features; every inch of your skin, the shape of your nose, the color of your eyes and the subtle twitching of your pointy ears. 

“Hullo? Merry?” Pippin called and waved his hand in front of his best mate's face.

“Sorry, it's just…”

Merry walked up to you and gently grabbed your hip with his other hand, the other rising to caress your curls, his fingers playing there carelessly.

“What?” you asked, looking up at him softly.

“Just that I'm lucky to be marrying you.”

You blushed deeply. Your ears fluttered uncontrollably and you smiled so wide it felt like your cheeks might rip.

Then there was a loud roar of laughter far from you, reminding you of just how many guests there were waiting for you both. You shivered.

“If you'll be able to marry me,” you said to Merry. “I might die before that.”

“That's why I wanted Pippin to lure you here,” Merry said. You turned to look at Pippin, who was now beaming with pride. “I want to vow my love to you where it's not a place full of anxiety, but a place where you feel safe and loved. With these idiots.”

Merry gestured at the few Hobbits behind him and all of them chuckled softly - all but Elanor, who seemed to be more interested in biting her thumb. 

You smiled and looked past Merry at your brother, who smiled softly. After a few seconds Frodo simply nodded, and you turned to look at Merry again.

“I want to vow my love to you alone,” you said and he raised his brow.

“Honey, after the wedding,” Merry said with a flirtatious tone and smirked. You let out a loud laugh.

“No, I mean it. It's personal. It's private. It's just for us.”

Merry looked behind him and after nods of approval, he gripped your hand tight, began running and pulled you with him. You let out a yelp and moved your feet faster to keep up with him as you quickly entered a thicket.

“What are you doing?” you giggled, dirt flying around with every step.

“I, Meriadoc Brandybuck,” he said while still pulling you with him, dodging a branch, “vow to love you and cherish you every day for the rest of my life, from the moment I wake up to the moment I fall asleep.”

You smiled and kept your feet moving. 

“I-”

“It's still my turn!” Merry yelled through a laugh as he climbed over a rock. “I promise to never lie to you, to never leave you behind and to always tell you when you have crumbs of pie stuck to your chin.”

“I promise to always kiss you good night,” you said as you climbed over the same rock right behind him. Merry looked over his shoulder and smiled. 

“I promise to always take care of you when you're sick,” he said and stopped running, turning to look at you properly with a wide, loving grin.

“I promise to always make your evening tea,” you vowed and took his hands in yours.

“I promise to always be there for you when you cry.”

“I promise to always tell you when your pipe-weed falls from your pocket,” you said and handed him a small leather pouch, which he put in his pocket with a grateful, yet amused smile.

“I promise to always be there for you,” Merry said softly, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb.

“I promise to always be there for you, come what may,” you responded. 

“I promise to always spank your bottom when-”

“Merry!” you laughed and gently swatted at his shoulder. He laughed heartily and pulled you flush against him.

“I promise to be there with you until the end of my days.”

You could feel a small clump form in your throat and your eyes get wet.

“Until death do us part,” you finished and he grinned. He crashed his lips against yours. It was gentle, but the passion and meaning behind the kiss made it feel like your heart was on fire.

You were not sure what kind of bushes and trees he had dragged you to, but it was private and it was with him; safe and anything you could ask from a wedding.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips and he grinned, pushing his lips against yours again to show just how much he loved you back.

Of course, later you did say your vows in front of a large crowd, consisting of Hobbits of all ages and personalities. The personal vows were left between just the two of you, so in front of everyone you knew more or less, it was easier to declare your undying love for each other in a more general way.

Sam had taken the responsibility of officiating the wedding, and it felt like there was a safety blanket wrapped around you when it was someone you knew so deeply and well.

“I do.”

“I do.”

“You may kiss the bride,” Sam said and smiled. Then he panicked, cheeks flushed: “Oh, no, wait! I pronounce you husband and wife. I almost forgot about that part. Please, proceed.”

You chuckled and locked your eyes with Merry's. He grabbed you by your waist, you flung your arms behind his neck, and you embraced in front of many Hobbits of the Shire, who began clapping and cheering; so loudly it would have raised your anxiety levels if it was not for Merry embracing you so tight, kissing you so fiercely and loving you so intensely.

As your lips parted and you turned to face the crowd, you could see a hundred gleeful smiles and bright eyes admiring the union between you two, and after what had felt like eternity, you finally basked in the attention on you and Merry

In the front row were all your closest friends and Merry's parents. Esmeralda's nose was hot pink for she had been blowing her nose from all the joyous tears she had shed, and Saradoc was his usual stern self - except this time with a toothy grin on his face. 

You looked at Frodo and he looked back at you, full of pride and affection. Oh, only if you knew just how proud he was of his little sister. He was visibly tired and pale, but it was the first time in a while you could see some color on his cheeks.

The party after the ceremony went long, as Hobbit parties tended to do. The brew was flowing from the barrels and the cake had all been downed; all the pastries had been eaten and all the chicken legs had been devoured (most by the older folks). There were no more fruits or bacon, and all the stew had been eaten too. Most wine bottles were empty, but for a few ones that were going to be emptied within five minutes. 

A few Hobbits had fallen asleep by the table: those older Hobbits that had a little too much to drink and eat. Some others had fallen asleep too; the youngest ones, most of them being carried home in their parents’ arms. Samwise was there too, little Elanor curled up in his arms, him and Rosie exiting the party around midnight. 

Pippin was, once again, quite out of it and was chugging down ale like it was as important to him as air. Frodo was sitting with some Hobbits you did not recognize, but clearly they were ones that were happy to see him out and about for once. You on the other hand had just finished dancing with your newly pronounced husband and were resting against a large pile of hay bales.

“Well, Mrs. Brandybuck,” Merry said drunkenly; with either love or alcohol - or both.

“Ooh, Mrs. Brandybuck,” you giggled.

“How does it feel to be called that?” 

“Mm,” you hummed and wrapped your hands behind his neck. “It feels good.”

“Yes?” he asked with a grin, leaning down to plant soft, lingering kisses on your neck, making you shiver.

“Mmh, yes.”

“You know what else would feel good?” he murmured and gently squeezed your bottom, eliciting a giggle from you.

“You, hm?” you said and he simply grinned, kissing your throat, making you gasp softly. 

“How about here and now?” he suggested boldly and you snorted.

“No,” you said gently. “I am tempted, but there could be cow shit here and I don't want to ruin the dress.”

At that, Merry burst out laughing loudly.

“Ah, yes. My bad, my sweetness. Can't have you covered in cow shit.”

You giggled along with him and after that the two of you kissed for a while, before silently agreeing to exit the party discreetly and make your way home.

You stumbled in with Merry, giggling, leaning against each other. Merry took off one of the daisies in your hair, smelled it and put it behind his own ear.

“Now who's pretty?” you asked with a sluggish grin, your legs wobbly under your drunken weight.

“Ah, thank you madam,” Merry responded and flipped his curls back - as much as they would, for they were barely to his shoulders at their longest.

“What would Mr. Pretty want right now?” you murmured flirtatiously, playing with the crooked collar of his shirt. Merry smiled down at you, gazing at you lovingly through half closed eyelids.

“A kiss would be wonderful.”

“Just a kiss?” you asked, your fingertips gently caressing his neck, making Merry visibly shiver.

“Temptress,” he muttered. You put your lower lip between your teeth and grinned, staring at his lips, barely able to focus your gaze.

Merry was still gazing at you. Suddenly the corners of his eyes crinkled and he let out a drunken laugh. Before you had any time to react to his sudden burst of energy, he scooped you in his arms bridal-style and began rushing towards the bedroom. He halted, turned around, entered through the living room doorway and - rather clumsily - tossed you on your back on the soft couch.

“Whoa!” you exclaimed and laughed, throwing your head back, smashing it against the couch fabric. “The bedroom is right there!”

“No time,” Merry said, out of breath and fumbling with the buttons on his waistcoat. You laid back, resting on your arms and nodding in approval, grinning happily.

“Are you alright?” you asked him, caressing his upper back. Merry responded by throwing up his guts again, the roaring sound making you gag.

“It's disgusting,” he muttered, his head practically drowning in the wooden bucket.

“I agree,” you said and he groaned, the sound echoing.

“I'm never drinking ag-”

“Yeah, yeah. We've heard that before, Meriadoc.”

“This time I mean it!” he cried.

“There's no way you can stay away from ale.”

“Want to make a bet?” he asked.

“Oh? You want to start our first day as a married couple with a bet?”

“Yes!” Merry said and lifted his head up, looking at you, face as pale as snow and dark circles under his eyes, his hair tousled. “Ten quid if I end up drinking one of these days.”

“Alright. I'll take my chances. I have faith in your love for ale.”

He offered you his sweaty hand and you gripped it tight, shaking it firmly.

As the coins landed on your palm, you grinned from ear to ear. Their clinking was sharp and satisfying: absolutely worth waiting an entire month for.

“He lasted surprisingly long!” said Pippin, setting down his newly emptied tankard. 

“I am actually pretty impressed with myself,” Merry said, a mustache formed by the foam from his ale decorating his upper lip.

“You are impressed with yourself?” you asked. “Did you have no faith in yourself?”

“Absolutely not,” he admitted. “I was in a deep, dark moment in my life.”

“A hangover?” you asked.

“Exactly,” Merry responded and you laughed, high pitched and joyous. It had been a month since your wedding, and it still felt like it was yesterday that you first realized your love for each other.

The Green Dragon was a bit more quiet than usual that day, but there was still cheerful laughter everywhere and those few regular customers nodding, half asleep at their tables. One table had a large family sitting together, eating a big meal that consisted of freshly made bread, hot and crispy bacon wrapped in asparagus, two different kinds of soups and so much more you could not see all there was to be consumed. The youngest of the family was a baby, sitting in her mother's lap. The baby had only one or two curls sticking from the top of her head and a loud giggle left her mouth when her older brother crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out in an attempt to make her baby sister laugh.

“So, is there a baby Brandybuck on its way yet?” asked Pippin suddenly.

“Pippin!” you cried. Merry's eyes were wide open.

“We just got married,” said Merry. “Why would there be a baby on the way?”

“I'm just asking for fun!” Pippin said and shrugged his shoulders in feigned innocence. “Is it not customary to get right into the baby making as soon as you're married? Besides, based on my experiences from when I lived with you, you seemed to be trying pretty oft-”

You smacked the back of his head. Pippin let out a cry of pain and regret, but he was still snickering.

“We're not ready for that kind of stuff,” you said firmly and straightened your back, narrowing your gaze at Pippin. 

You looked at the table where the large Hobbit family was sitting. You breathed in the smell of bacon and warm bread, trying to ground yourself, combined with wiggling your toes against the floorboards under the table.

But now the baby was distracting you. She was giggling louder, her bright blue eyes reminding you of Merry's. 

And for a few seconds you thought of how heartwarming it would be to have a little version of you or Merry running around your home, giggling like that and looking at you with bright eyes like so.

You shook the thought off.

No, not ready.

You got up, walked your way past the family, trying to ignore the beautiful laughter of the tiny Hobbit and ordered yourself a few too many shots. 

“Give me the bucket,” you said, gesturing rapidly. Merry's eyes widened.

“Oh,” he said and handed over the bucket - just in time.

After groaning and fighting nausea for yet another five minutes, you could finally talk again.

“It's unfair,” you whimpered and looked at him, pouting, your ears drooping. He smiled affectionately, eyes full of pity and his fingers brushed against the shell of your ear.

“I know,” Merry said.

You put the bucket down and rested your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes and embracing the momentary calm of no nausea or aching. Merry grinned to himself.

“Maybe you're pregnant.”

You lifted your head swiftly and slammed your palm against his arm.

“Merry!”

“Ow! You need to stop hitting poor little Hobbits! What did I say?”

“Don't even joke about such a thing!” you said and frowned.

“What?” he chuckled, confused. “About pregnancy? It was a joke. But would it even be such a bad thing to have a little Brandybuck running around in here?”

“You want a little Hobbit to cry, scream and vomit here all the time?” you asked. “Have you not seen me today? That's so much work.”

“Look,” Merry said, smiling, “I'm just saying it would not be the end of the world. Just a new experience and addition to our lives.”

“Babies are a lot of work, Merry.”

Merry frowned.

“Do you not want kids?” he asked and you gasped in horror.

“What? No, it's not that! I'm just…”

“What is it?” he asked.

“We just got married,” you said and put your palm on his cheek. “Can we not enjoy being by ourselves for a little while?”

His eyes were showing shades of green that day, and there was a deep affection in his gaze that you had not seen in him before. His eyes lit up as you finished speaking and his lips curled upwards once again.

“Of course. You're all I need right now.”

You exhaled in relief and pressed your forehead against his again, both of you closing your eyes in bliss.

It was getting colder as winter was near, the green of the Shire turning more grey and the skies more cloudy. Rain was more frequent and there were dry leaves everywhere, with fresh mushrooms poking their heads through those same leaf piles like curious children in a large crowd.

Merry's embrace was warm and the feel of his skin against yours was calming your heart rate down, the queasiness of the hangover leaving your body temporarily.

“Here,” Merry said and handed over a porcelain bowl with the pieces of carrot he had just finished cutting up.

“Thank you,” you responded as you took them from him and put them in the boiling water. You took a cup filled with chicken broth and poured it into the mix, adding spices as you put in more ingredients.

“Are you feeling alright?” Merry asked carefully, noticing how you had not even glanced at him when you took the carrots he had prepped.

“Mhm,” you responded quietly, nodding and stirring the soup. Merry stared at your back and sighed. He prepared himself to ask the question he had been dreading to ask all day.

“So, what did the healer say?” he said.

Your hand stopped moving and you just shrugged, standing there, completely quiet.

“So… it was a no then?” he asked. 

You let out a huff of air, the sadness and disappointment in the air palpable.

“Yeah.”

Merry closed his eyes and put the knife down, leaving the potatoes unfinished. He walked up behind you and placed his right hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently.

“One day it'll be a yes.”

“Merry…”

“I mean it. Just because-”

“Merry, just stop.”

He took his hand off your shoulder and you turned around to face him. His heart shattered as he saw just how tired you were again - mentally, not physically. Your heart was weary and you felt like pieces of your soul and very being were ripped off every time the answer had been the word ‘no.’

“It's going to happen.”

“Merry!” you cried and walked past him, resting your hands against the island counter and dropping your head down, shaking it. “We've tried! For a long time! If it was to happen-”

“Sweetling,” he said and sighed, desperation clear in his voice. “I want to keep trying.”

“What's the point?” you said, your voice shaky and exhausted. “It's just not meant to happen. We're not meant to…”

You paused. Merry huffed.

“What? We're not meant to what? Be parents? Be a family?” he said, now visibly getting angry.

“Yes!”

Merry put his hand in his curls and gripped them slightly.

“How can you say that?” he asked.

“Merry…”

“We need to keep trying!” he cried.

“Why?” you asked, practically yelling. “So we get heartbroken all over again? Merry, I can't get pregnant.”

“You don't know that.”

“I can't get pregnant!”

“They've never said that!” he protested.

“Merry!” you cried angrily, broken. “I can't fucking get pregnant!”

“Neither could my mom!” he said.

“What?” you asked. Merry blew out some air from between his lips and walked closer to you again. He was not sure why he had not told you about it before, but he continued to talk without thinking about that part any more than necessary.

“My parents struggled,” he said. “They couldn't make it happen. They tried and tried. They succeeded a few times, but every time it…”

“Oh.”

“The point is. It happened. They had me. Eventually they had a baby and I'm here now. They struggled. And it still happened. It can still happen.”

“I don't find this entirely comforting,” you said and Merry tilted his head. “You know, your mother having lost... I don't think I ever could go through that. It would wreck me.”

“And it would wreck me too,” he said and stepped merely a whisper away from you, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “But it doesn't mean we should stop trying. And it doesn't mean it would go as badly.”

“What if it does?” you asked and looked up at him, deep into his eyes. Your eyes were watering and your chest was tightening.

“Then we get through it,” Merry responded. “You want a family, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then we don't give up,” he said softly. You stood there and for Merry the time stood still. Finally, you nodded.

“Alright.”

You entered through the front door, slamming it behind you. Tears in your eyes you rushed to the bathroom, not sparing as much as a hello to Merry.

It was a no again.

The next month as you were sitting on the couch in front of the fire, warming up your toes, Merry sat down next to you. You looked up at him and shook your head.

No.

One day you sat down to eat second breakfast. Merry looked at you, but this time it was not hopeful. He already knew what the answer would be.

No.

It was a freezing cold day. The wind was blowing so hard trees seemed like they'd break and almost every Hobbit stayed home that day- except you, Merry and Pippin. Ale and the Green Dragon were too tempting.

Pippin let out a muted gag.

“Pip?” Merry asked.

Pippin was pale white and holding his hand in front of his mouth, his body slightly jerking, almost like a heaving cat.

“You alright?” you asked. “It's not a surprise hangover for you, is it?”

Pippin shook his head and swallowed - who knows what.

“No,” he said, his voice rough from holding down another gag. “Diamond is sick. I think it's a stomach bug. I may-”

“Peregrin Took!” you yelled, startling Merry, Pippin and the only two other Hobbits in the Inn. “Tell me you didn't come to the Green Dragon ill!”

Pippin shrank and looked down at his feet.

“Well, I wasn't sure if I was sick or if it was something else.”

“Pippin!” you cried. Merry was rubbing his temples. You grunted. Loud. “Everyone knows this weather has given many folks the flu!”

“It could have been something else!” Pippin tried to protest, but when you questioned him, he had no answer. 

“We shared an ale, Pip,” Merry sighed, disappointed. 

Pippin looked at the both of you like an injured puppy; eyes wide, shoulders hanging and his lips pouting. You rolled your eyes.

“Just go home,” you said and gently nudged Pippin out of his chair. 

“I think we should go too,” Merry muttered. “We should finish cleaning our home before the illness takes us over.”

“It's gonna be a few days before it starts,” Pippin said, closing his eyes, trying to settle his nausea down. “How long can it possibly take to clean your house?”

“He likes to be thorough,” you whispered to Pippin and Merry poked your side affectionately, causing you to giggle and squirm for a moment. It was one of those small moments of happiness you had been craving for; moments where you did not remember.

“I'm going to kill him!” you yelled, turning on your stomach on the bed, pushing the sheets off of you in frustration, trying to keep the sweat at bay.

“It'll be fine, sweetling.”

“It will not! I took one sip from his ale. One! You shared a whole tankard and kiss me like a man starving every day, but you got nothing!”

“Take some water,” he said calmly, handing over a glass of water, as cold as he could get you.

You flipped on your side and took the glass in your hand. The cold glass met your lips and you put it down on your nightstand.

“I can't. I'll hurl.”

Merry smiled.

“Maybe-”

“No.”

“But-”

“Don't get our hopes up. It's the flu. I have a fever and it's coming out of both ends.”

“Charming,” he responded and put his hand on your back, caressing calmingly. “It's just that I didn't get sick. Despite being there too.”

“We both know I'm not pregnant,” you sighed.

“Can we at least check, when you feel good enough to walk and see a healer?”

You walked in through the door and looked at Merry, who was waiting for you right there by the door.

“Well?”

You shook your head. 

No.

Spring had settled upon the Shire. Lavenders were blooming and the birds had already returned, the beautiful tunes bringing cheer to the hearts of every Hobbit. 

The grass was many colors of green: dark, bright, sage and emerald. The lavenders were plenty shades of purple and the sky was so blue it reminded you of sapphires. There were clouds of many shapes and sizes, and there were birds with chests full of color: yellows, reds and even blue. 

“Come on in,” said the woman. You walked in, your feet covered in grass and a grey cloak on you. Despite the warm air, you were feeling chilly and when you left home you had to be wrapped up like it was the first days of winter.

You sat down on the same cherry wood chair you had sat down on before, except this time it had a new cushion the healer had sewn herself. It was a beautiful pattern of swirls of gold thread, and it reminded you of Rohan and Éowyn. You sighed. 

Oh, how you missed Éowyn.

The healer kneeled in front of you and gently caressed your face, pity and comfort in her gaze.

“Are you feeling alright, Mrs. Brandybuck?” she asked warmly. You nodded.

“I suppose. It’s not worse than a regular flu.”

“You are shivering and wearing a cloak. I would not be worried if it was not for the heat outside.”

“I just feel a bit… chilly,” you lied. You did not want to worry her. “It's why I'm here. I need to know if I'm truly ill again. It will be the fourth time in a few months and I'm tired of it. Merry is getting worried. Why are you touching my belly?”

“Out of habit, I suppose,” she said and gently pressed down on different sides of your stomach, the dread of hearing the denial of pregnancy again, even though it was not what you were there for.

“So, do you think it's the flu again?” you asked.

“Most likely,” she responded.

“So, do I need to be worried?” you asked as her hand moved to your forehead to test your temperature. Her free hand was reaching for some sort of cream she had mixed with herbs and spices like rosemary and chili, and she gently began rubbing it on your neck, knowing it soothed your muscle pains. You let out a satisfied hum.

“Does that help?” she asked, massaging it.

“Yes, thank you,” you said, closing your eyes, brows furrowing a bit from the amount of tension in your shoulder and neck. “I did not realize I'm so tense.”

She examined you for some time in silence, standing up to clean her hands. She walked to a small wooden crest with carvings of beautiful poems. Bottles were clinking against each other as she read the labels on them, moving them out and back in again, looking for the right ones. She picked up a few of them in her hand, and with the other she resumed searching.

“How sick am I?” you asked. It was the first time you had seen her look for so many potions and medicines. Something was wrong.

“A little,” she said and closed the crest, her hands full of small green and blue bottles, all filled with different herbs, potions and medications.

“That does not seem like a little,” you said, voice trembling.

“It is temporary, but it'll still last quite a long while more,” she said and handed over the bottles. You began reading the labels curiously and worried. “It is certainly something you can beat. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

Merry was standing in the kitchen, mixing up some cake batter to prepare for a bake sale he was planning to attend, for you had challenged him to prove his baking skills once again. He was covered in flour from head to toe and on any other day the sight would have amused you to the point of dropping to your knees, crying from laughter.

“Hullo,” you said quietly as you entered and dug the bottles out of your satchel, one by one placing them on the side table. Merry's head spun around, his gaze snapping to the bottles.

“Oh,” he said, “sweetie...”

“So, she gave me quite a bit of medicine,” you said, letting out a small chuckle of disbelief.

“What is it?” he asked, his hand no longer mixing the batter. “What's wrong?”

“Uh, yes,” you responded, dazed.

“No, I asked what's wrong?” he said, swallowing nervously. 

“Yes,” you repeated.

“Just answer me, please.”

“No, Merry. She said yes.”

“I don't get it. You sound like you proposed to the healer.”

“Merry. She said it would be temporary but, uh, long-ish lasting.”

“How long?” he whimpered. You laughed unintentionally, only half present.

“Nine months, give or take.”

“What?” he asked, scoffing. “That's oddly specific.”

“You ass,” you laughed and took a few of the bottles in your hands, walking swiftly to your husband, presenting them to him. “It wasn't a no. It was a yes.”

Merry furrowed his brows and took the potion bottles in his hands. One by one he read the labels and one by one he began looking more and more like a startled deer. Eventually he just started to look like a deer in disbelief. 

“These are for…”

“Yes.”

“It wasn't a no?” he asked and you smiled wide, still so stunned by the news you were only half there, the wheels in your head turning, trying to lock in all the pieces.

Merry tossed the bottles away, breaking one of them in the process. He had never wrapped his arms around you so quickly. 

With his strong arms he lifted you up, squeezing you so tight you could barely breathe. He was trembling and as he pulled back to look at you, tears were freely and wildly pouring down his face - though they were tears of joy. You burst into tears when you saw him like so; happy, startled and relieved, all at once.

Yes.

You were absent mindedly drinking some lemon tea and looking out the window, admiring the autumn colors. Merry burst in, tossing his travel bag on the floor.

“When did he leave?” he asked and ran up to you.

You turned around, not even a bit startled. You knew it was coming. 

“When did he leave?” he repeated. You smiled sadly, looking down at your feet. Merry repeated his question and you looked up at him again, straight into his panicked eyes.

“I made a promise.”

“I know you made a promise,” he said, “but you still need to tell me. When did he leave?”

You held your cup gently with both hands and gave him another apathetic smile.

“Two days ago.”

Merry gave a thankful nod and ran back to his bag, picked it up, flung it over his shoulder and began to march outside, calling for Pippin who was waiting there.

You sipped your tea, waiting for it.

Merry returned from around the corner with swift movements, stood in front of you and gave a soft peck on your lips. Your lips curled up to a genuine smile. He knelt down and put his hands on both sides of your rather large and round belly, giving a soft kiss over the fabric. 

There it was. The same loving goodbye he always said to both of you when he had to leave for business - or for literally any other reason, be it a hangout in the Ivy Bush Inn or at Pippin's.

“Stay here. Don't give birth yet.”

You chuckled. 

“Don't worry. I'm not due yet. Just go say goodbye.”

It was four days prior when Frodo had told you he was leaving Middle-Earth. You fought him on it - one sidedly. You had yelled and cried, while Frodo stood there with a sorrowful smile, yet relief in his eyes.

“You can't leave. Not forever. I need you. I… you need to meet the baby! You're it's uncle! Uncle Frodo!”

Frodo listened to you patiently, having known how you'd react. When you stopped yelling, he had reached out and held your belly in both his hands, smiling at you.

“And you'll tell all the tales it needs to hear. And you'll tell just how much I love Merry, you and the baby. Just how bad uncle Frodo wanted to be there, but no longer could not.”

“Do you have to leave? I…”

The sad, guilty smile had told you everything you needed.

“I'm glad you'll be able to heal. More than anything, I'm glad you'll feel at peace with yourself again. But oh, how much I'll miss you. You're my brother, Frodo. I can't imagine life without you in it.”

He had simply kissed your forehead for a long moment, pouring his brotherly affection into it with all his strength and with all the love he felt for you.

“And you are my little sister and I'll miss you just as much, if not more. But I can't feel so ill and broken.”

“I know.”

“You need to promise me not to tell Merry. We had a wonderful evening together with him and Pippin in the Green Dragon a week ago, I'd rather have them cherish that as our last moment together here in the Shire, than a long, painful goodbye at the Havens.”

“But…”

“Please.”

“Alright. I promise.”

With a long hug of goodbye, Frodo left, leaving behind many of his belongings to you - but also taking a piece of you with him to the elves. Your brother left and you never saw his face again.

When Merry returned from the Grey Havens, he fell into your arms and began sobbing. He had made it just in time to say his goodbyes to his life long friend, but it had broken him more than either of you had anticipated. You comforted him for the better half of an hour, letting him pour his heart out to you and in return you gave him all your love you had for him, holding him tight and whispering words of encouragement and consolation, all filled with infinite affection.

“It's alright,” you whispered, brushing your hand along his golden curls.

“I miss him.”

“I know.”

You would never fully stop missing Frodo.

But when something is let go, it gives up space for new, beautiful things. 

“No, that she definitely inherited from me,” Merry said.

You looked at the little miracle in your arms. Before she had fallen asleep, you had looked into her eyes, which you noted were as green as emerald. Her hair was longer than you had imagined a newborn baby could have. You looked at her little snout, which you could tell would grow into an exact copy of her father's nose.

“I can tell,” you responded, readjusting the fabric the baby was wrapped in. “She has your nose.”

“And she has your ears,” said Merry.

“I don't know,” you muttered. “They're more alike to yours.”

“I disagree,” he said softly. You could feel his grin against your cheek when he pointed at your newly born daughter's ears. They were wiggling with every deep breath she took in her sleep. She let out a soft coo. “Oh, look. Sounds just like you too.”

“Hush,” you tutted quietly with a widening smile. You admired every feature on the baby: the wisps of curly hair, her small brows, the chubby and pink cheeks that were covered in freckles, her happy and expressive ears and all of the little fingers that were reaching for your touch even when she was in a deep slumber.

“Our sleepy little potato,” you murmured. Merry brushed back some of the sweaty curls sticking to your forehead and leaned over to kiss your brow. His kiss felt like comfort, helping you forget the pain of giving birth.

“She is a bit potato-y, eh?” he responded and chuckled softly against your skin. Merry reached over and caressed the head of his daughter. You took a long look at him and saw peace in his expression. You smiled. He turned his eyes back to you and as he met your gaze, he smiled back, his expression full of fondness. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered. His eyes lit with soft light, as if it was the first time he had heard those words. He brushed his lips against yours, the kiss a gentle caress. As he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes in contentment. You heard his steady breathing and your breath began to match his. Your hold on your baby tightened a little, trying to form a deeper connection between the three of you. 

And it was there.

Merry pulled back and gazed at the baby again.

“Have you thought of a name?” he asked curiously, having realized he had not given the task even a moment of thought.

“No, not really,” you responded and looked at the tiny blessing who was still soundly asleep in your arms. “I thought of naming him after my brother if it was a boy. Alas…”

“Little Lady Frodo,” said Merry and you let out a snort of amusement.

“Sorry,” you whispered - and Merry chuckled. You looked at the closed eyes of the baby and thought of how bright green they were.

“Sapphire?” you asked and immediately let out a grunt of disapproval to your own suggestion. “Oh, no. Absolutely not.”

“I agree,” he said and caressed the soft cheek on her. “Iris?”

“No, that name reminds me of that Noakes girl who bullied me when we were kids.”

“Right,” said Merry, “her.” 

In truth he responded in agreement despite not recalling who you were talking about.

“Pippin?” you joked and Merry let out a quiet laugh. 

“Éowyn?” he asked. 

You thought about it for a moment. It was a name of someone the both of you were close with and cared deeply about, but something about giving your daughter a Rohanese name instead of a Hobbitish one didn't sit right with you.

“I love the idea,” you said softly, “but no. It doesn't sit right with me.”

You both exchanged a look and shrugged, the baby name seemingly impossible to agree on. A small coo ringed in the air and the two of you looked down at your daughter, her emerald eyes staring right into your own. Crinkles formed in the corners of your eyes when your gaze locked on hers. She didn't know how to smile yet, but there were dimples on her face.

Merry looked at the two of you fondly, his heart racing at the mere sight of your happiness. As he looked at you, he was reminded of the night you were dancing and the moment he had realized he was falling for you. 

He put his hand on your cheek and brushed some hair aside and behind your pointy ear. He studied the texture of your skin and the marks there, drinking in every detail. 

As he thought back to the times he had snuck flowers behind your ears, he smiled and exhaled happily. Then, he looked at the precious bundle in your arms. He knew at that moment. Merry took your hand in his.

“Daisy.”

“What?”

“For her name. How do you feel about Daisy?”

You looked at her and thought of how much you loved her. You thought about how much you loved Merry. You smiled.

“I think that's a wonderful name,” you said as she grabbed your finger. “Little Daisy.”

Merry reached out, took her other hand in his and shook her tiny palm.

“Nice to meet you, Daisy.”