Merry's Mission

[Bess the Bard]

This is going to be a short one. I hope....:)
Merry’s Mission

Carrying a single lit candle, Meriadoc Brandybuck quietly checked the lock on the back door of the cottage at Crickhollow. Again. Still secure. He tried the windows in the kitchen and the parlor next. All locked.

He stepped carefully around the sleeping form of Sam, wrapped in blankets in front of the dying parlor fire. Sam dreamed on. Freddy Bolger slept slumped in an easy chair, breathing heavily through his open mouth. Merry moved silently across the room, stopping for moment to look at Pippin sprawled on the overstuffed sofa. Funny how his cousin looked even younger and more innocent in his sleep than he did awake. After a lingering moment, Merry left the parlor and moved softly across the hall to the cottage’s single bedroom.

He looked through the open bedroom door. His older cousin Frodo occupied the only bed. Frodo did not snore, quite unlike Cousin Bilbo, snorted and grumbled in his sleep like a troll out of one of his own stories. Merry grinned, remembering the times he and Frodo had to put pillows over their heads to get some sleep amidst the nightly noise at Bag End. Frodo quelled Merry’s suggestion they put the pillow over Bilbo’s head and solve the problem permanently.

Merry’s amusement faded. Frodo slept, but his face, even in slumber, was pale and drawn. Merry suspected Frodo’s burden weighed heavily on him. But Frodo had been relieved earlier tonight by the insistence of his friend and cousins in joining him on his dangerous journey. A load shared is a load halved, as Sam might say. But Merry felt the weight of his own responsibility keenly, here in the dark watches of the night.

The thought brought Merry back to his present mission. The only window of Frodo’s bedroom remained tightly shut against the autumn chill. Merry then went to the front door and assured himself it was still locked and barred for the night. With as little motion as possible, he twitched aside the curtains on the window that looked out onto the front garden.

A pale moon created more shadows than light. Did something move, over there by the garden wall? Merry’s breath caught in his throat for a moment. No, just a trailing vine moving in the breeze. No Black Riders here. Not yet.

[Lalaith]

Great start Bess - I'm really looking forward to reading more! Merry is my favourite hobbit and I already like your representation of his character...
No matter if it's a short or long story - I wanna read more!:thumbs:

[Tar-Ancalimë]

Yay!! another story from our Bess.... and it looks to be really good... like your others veryhappy

[Bess the Bard]

Thanks, guys. Poor Merry has been hanging around for a long time, waiting for me to finish his story and I think I'm finally able to do it. Then I've promised myself to finish at least one of my other two before I start on my third epic, which is scratching to get out.

[Pil]

:hooray: Another Fanfic from Bess...and this one looks like it'll be just as great as the others! :thumbs:

Keep this up Bess...u know how much i love Merry! lol

[Elven Daughter]

YAY! Brilliant, I've never seen one about Merry or Pippin B4

[Little Devil]

Very good start! :thumbs: really looking forward to the next part. ;)

[Bess the Bard]

Thanks, everyone. Merry has always been one of my favorite characters. I'm enjoying seeing him come into his own in the movies.

********

The night seemed watchful, as if something were about to happen. Merry shook off this dark fancy. He’d be seeing dragons in the garden next. Determined to settle himself, he wandered back to the kitchen, poured some tea from the still-warm pot and sat down at the table.

Merry poured a bit of milk into his teacup. He stared moodily at the creamy swirls as he stirred. In his mind he ticked off the list of supplies he’d gathered for their trip.

Dried meat and fruit, salt, oats for the ponies, several waterskins, bedrolls, clothes, and rope. He’d tried to plan for everything. He didn’t have much experience at this sort of venture.

He had only made two trips of any length in his whole life. One trip to the North Downs with his father for the hunting and one to Bree.

Or, almost to Bree.

Only Frodo knew that after a particularly loud dustup with his father over whether they should add a new strain of sheep to their flock, Merry decided to strike off on his own. He would go to Bree and buy the sheep himself. To prove, though he had been but barely in his tweens, he was ready to follow in the footsteps of the Master of Buckland.

What a disaster that had been.

In his anger, he went off without any more provision than a honeycake in his pocket left over from breakfast. Imagining his father’s remorse and his mother’s tears when his battered body was borne back to Brandy Hall after having defeated assorted orcs and outlaws, Merry managed to get nearly a day past the Brandywine Bridge before he had second thoughts.

The road was in decent shape but entirely deserted. A party of Dwarves had passed Merry a few hours before, heading back toward the Shire. They trudged along with their hoods pulled far over their faces, however, and had not even responded to Merry’s hopeful greeting. Merry had felt more than lonely after the Dwarves passed out of sight, but tried to shake it off.

Grumpy old Dwarves. Who needed them, anyway?

Dark came quicker than Merry expected, the sun sinking behind the hills beyond the Old Forest. Hills that carried a dark and cursed name even in the Shire, for evil spirits were said to walk there. Merry stuck steadfastly to the road, shuddering at the thought of cutting cross-country. Still, when it was completely dark, Merry realized he couldn’t just lie down in the middle of the lane. He needed a place to sleep.

He would have to get off the road.

[Lalaith]

Gah! Can't believe you just stopped there!
Excellent, Bess and really well written! it's nice and 'hobbity'!! Even though Merry is the 'sensible' hobbit, it's great to see a time when he was just that little bit...foolish? Although his sense still shines through, when he shudders 'at the thought of cutting cross-country' ~ short cuts make for long delays and all that!!~
can't wait for more! :thumbs:

[Tar-Ancalimë]

aaah I love it so far... you're a really talented writer Bess, I enjoy reading all your fanfics a lot :grin:

[Aragorn's Latest Lay]

Yeah it's great Bess. Can't wait for the next part. I love the uneasyness of the story and of Merry himself along with his resignation that he has to do what needs to be done.

It's a side of him we sort of see in the book but you have managed to get inside his head to confirm our suspicions about what's going on in there.

Excellent! :thumbs:

[BeLLe_Etoille]

Keep up the great work Bess! :thumbs: Excellent tie-in to the original story... :)
Merry has always been one of my favourite characters, and I am definitely looking forward to reading more about our brave, loyal, adorable and "merry" hobbit! :)

[Galadriel]

Loved the story . Can't wait to read more.:grin:

[Bess the Bard]

Here is the next part. Hope you enjoy it. The next two parts are already written, and in the final editing stages. They'll be up soon. Thank you for all the great comments.

******

A steep bank that sloped upward for 10 feet or more ran along the lane on the north side, and thick tangled woods bordered it to the south. He could not climb up the hill so he would have to pick a path through the bramble on the other side. The moon shone full and bright, enabling Merry to find his way. But once he ventured further from the road, branches and vines intertwined overhead to block much of the moonlight, creating dark, menacing shadows.

He stumbled over hidden logs and snarled vines covered in leaves. Trailing branches snagged at his hair and jacket. Soon the thought of bedding down in the middle of the road didn’t sound so bad. At last Merry spied a small clearing free of most forest litter. This would have to do.

But when he turned around to get his bearings so he could make it back to the road in the morning, he had a shock. The thick woods closed in around Merry’s little clearing, as if he had never fought his way through. He could no longer see the road at all.

Merry fought down his anxiety. In the morning he would take his direction from the rising sun and head north. Eventually, he would find the road again.

He spent several minutes gathering wood and kindling for the chill of the night made a fire his next order of business. Merry laid quite a tidy little fire, if he did say so himself, and his expertise went a long way toward taking the sting out of having let home with so little food. But the best laid fire is little good without a spark to bring it to life. Merry reached in his pocket, but came up with nothing. Food was not the only thing he’d forgotten. He didn’t even have a flint and steel to light the blasted fire.

It was only after Merry stomped around the clearing for some time calling out the worst curses he could think of, that he remembered Sam Gamgee had once taught him another way to make a fire. With little difficulty he found a suitable stone. He took his small eating knife and struck them repeatedly against each other. Eventually he got a spark. Anxiously, he nursed the flicker to life until at last he had his fire.

He sat back to enjoy the fruits of his labors. The cheerful flames kept back the night and Merry felt well pleased with himself. He stared at the crackling fire and mused that at least he’d remembered the money to buy the sheep. He should be in Bree by tomorrow evening. He would hire the best room in the best inn, have both dinner and supper, and arrange for ponies and drovers so that he and the sheep would arrive in Buckland in style. Thinking of his triumphal return to the Shire, Merry fell asleep at last.

[Tar-Ancalimë]

i like this... i think this is a great view to merrys character... kind of foolish but sensible as well. plus i like the analysis of his motives and such.... keep it coming! :grin:

[Lalaith]

Ah! Good old Merry - the epitomy of a resilient hobbit, for all his silliness!
Great characterisation. :thumbs:

[Bess the Bard]

Merry gasped and jerked upright, looking about wildly. After a moment his breathing slowed. Something had awakened him, but what?

He hadn't slept long. His fire still burned bright, the flames dancing to and fro in the breeze that picked up while he dreamed. Dark clouds scudded across the full moon, running before the wind like black-sailed ships. Harbingers of the coming storm.

Wait, there it was again, the noise that pulled him from slumber. A high thin thread of sound, whipped to pieces by the rising wind. Merry stood, his chest tight with fear. He heard the crack of branches broken by something big and heavy. It was getting closer.

Thunder rumbled sullenly in the distance. A glimmer of lightning flickered in the east. Merry’s fire leapt in seeming response, called up by the wind sweeping out of the north. The ghostly cry repeated, but Merry could still make out no words. He looked about for some sort of weapon, wondering if it would do any good. But outlaw or evil spirit, it would soon be upon him.

He finally settled on a stout limb to use as a club. Merry gripped the stick in icy hands. The air grew colder in just a few moments and thunder boomed menacingly close. The moon disappeared behind black clouds that now unleashed their fury. Lashing sheets of chill rain doused the shivering hobbit.

Lightning flashed, giving Merry a terrifying glimpse of a shadowy figure atop a large large formless beast. At great speed it crashed through the wood straight for Merry. He trembled, every evil tale he’d ever heard tumbling through his mind. The next burst of light revealed the creature was nearly upon him.

Fear erupted from his throat. Giving a prodigious shout, he charged the dark shape, brandishing his club as he ran. The creature reared to a great height above Merry trumpeting its rage. Merry froze, certain his foolishness would now cost him his life.

Something hit the ground beside Merry. The beast cried out once more, dodged Merry and soon disappeared into the rain-shrouded darkness. Merry’s knees gave way beneath him. Huddled on the ground, he hid his face in his jacket for long moments before he gathered the courage to look at what lay before him.

It took Merry a minute to realize it was a body. A rather small body. A cold feeling began to form in the pit of his stomach. He reached a reluctant hand to roll the motionless form up to face the drenching rain. Lightning flashed again, illuminating the sight. Merry gasped in horror.

He’d killed Frodo Baggins.
**********

[Tar-Ancalimë]

omg. the suspense in this part was incredible. this is amazing writing bess... i love the suspense, and the last sentance really hits you! :elfeek:

[Lalaith]

Excellent continuation, Bess - I loved the way that Merry's fears and memories of old tales made the beast seem so much more terrifying! It reminded me of the bit in LOTR when Farmer Maggot is driving the hobbits to Crickhollow and Merry himself appears out of the shadows, and visions of a Black Rider appear before them!

But now I'm stressed!!! He thinks he killed Frodo? GAH!!

[Pil]

:o Bess! Omg that was amazing! I was so scared like Merry...but then the sudden shock of finding out what has happened.... :elfeek:

I seriously can't WAIT to find out what happens now... :read: :)

[Bess the Bard]

A low moan had Merry bending over his cousin’s body in wild hope. Maybe Frodo wasn’t dead after all. Merry pushed sopping curls away from his cousin’s face. An ugly purple lump the size of a hen’s egg marred Frodo’s temple. His normally fair skin looked like a writhen deathmask in the cold rain. Life, if present, flickered only weakly.

“Frodo, wake up!” Merry patted his cousin’s cheek. No response. Merry gave a slightly harder slap, then several sharp blows.

“Wake up, curse you! Don’t you die on me, Frodo Baggins.”

The marks of his blows were the only color on Frodo’s face. At last Merry sat back on his heels, tears mixing with the rain running down his cheeks. “I didn’t mean it. Why did you come looking for a thoughtless fool like me?”

Merry took off his own sodden jacket and placed it over Frodo’s still form. At least the coat had a bit of Merry’s own warmth to it. It was the only offering Merry had left to give.

Kneeling in the muck he dully noted the rain had stopped. The moon crept out from clouds that had reluctantly departed at last to the north, to weep on the hills of the ancient kings.

The woods fell silent at last. Merry could hear his own heart, beating strongly; wicked, uncaring organ that it was. How dare it continue to pump blood through his veins when Frodo lay cold and still on the ground?

Merry didn’t know how much time passed but eventually the mundane concerns of aching knees, hunger pangs and cold water dripping down his neck from a nearby branch, insinuated themselves into his consciousness. Like it or not, life continued.

Taking his cousin’s cold fingers in his own, Merry whispered. “Forgive me, Frodo. You were always patient with me, tagging along after you, getting into trouble. And you always said the same thing….”

“Merry Brandybuck, you’ll be the death of me,” came the weak but unmistakably amused voice of Frodo Baggins.

[Pil]

Aw! Poor Merry! mecry What a great twist at the end, that's so clever how Frodo says that! :thumbs:

I can't wait to read the rest of this Bess! That was a great update! :)

[Tar-Ancalimë]

lol, that was great bess. I'm glad to see you haven't abandoned this fic! It's wonderful... can't wait, as always, for more. :grin: