Author's Note - this is a story I started long ago, mostly to counter the stories where Merry was being displayed as a power-hungry hobbit who would hurt and torture to get his hands on the One Ring. Me, I'm fond of Merry, and fond of the idea that hobbits are not a people predisposed to the same violence as other races. So this is my own imagining of The Lord of the Rings if the ringbearer really was changed.

This will be a bit of a mix between movie and book. I think they speak a bit more formally than in the movies, but of course I'm not quite as literary as Tolkien. The plot will follow more of the movie, since it's abridged enough to not be impossible. Though book scenes may find themselves included.

Anyway, for those who first read this part when it came out, I hope you're still interested in reading the rest. Enjoy!

The fire danced in the fireplace, casting its warm orange glow around the small rounded walls of the room that had gotten so much colder in the last few minutes. The crackle of the wood and flame was the only sound for a long, tense moment.

Gandalf the wizard took that moment to wonder if he would have to use force against one of his old and good friends.

"The ring must go to Frodo." Bilbo spoke abruptly, sounding defeated.

And the moment was over. Gandalf hid his relief at the acquiescence, simply nodding solemnly. He watched Bilbo make his slow way to the mantle over the fireplace, where the ring was supposed to have been placed already. The hobbit's feet dragged as he walked in most unhobbitlike fashion – the weight of the ring, of the sacrifice. The sight of it having a physical as well as mental impact on Bilbo sent Galdalf's relief away again, to be replaced by fresh concern.

Bilbo stood for a long moment with his back to the wizard. He held the ring in his hand, and looked to be taking one last, long look at his prized possession for over fifty years.

"In an envelope, like you said?" His voice was oddly hushed.

"It is safer that way," Gandalf agreed. "Out of sight means out of mind, as the saying goes."

Bilbo reached for the envelope he had already addressed, lying empty but patient on the mantle. He held it, and did not move.

"Bilbo," Gandalf's voice always sounded loud in the confines of the small space, but in this hushed moment it seemed to echo.

"Yes, yes." Bilbo sighed but started moving again. His hand, just out of Gandalf's sight, let the envelope rest back on the mantle. The ring was no longer in his hand.

Gandalf released a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding.

Bilbo turned suddenly, and a new determination washed over him, shaking away the fog that had seemed to overtake him. "And now I should be off, before those confounded curious hobbits make their way here. Will you see me to the door, Gandalf?"

Gandalf smiled at his old friend. "Of course." His eyes flitted to the ring, the envelope, more than once. Seeing it there still and waiting made his smile more sincere.

Bilbo grabbed his favorite walking stick, old and warped with usage, and went to his door. His walk was much more determined now that the weight of the ring was off of his shoulders.

He stopped suddenly in the path outside his front door. He turned back to Gandalf with a sudden smile on his face. "I've thought up an ending to my book," he stated, looking pleased. "'And he lived happily ever after, to the end of his days.'"

Resilient, ridiculous hobbits. Gandalf went to him, crouching. "And so I'm sure you shall."

Bilbo smiled as Gandalf rested a hand on his shoulder. "Goodbye, Gandalf."

"Farewell, my dear Bilbo." Gandalf shook his head in sudden amusement as memories welled up inside of him. This same hobbit, more than fifty years ago. How he had sat outside this very door when Gandalf met him for almost the first time. Lazing away his day and blowing smoke rings. A practical hobbit with no sense of adventure.

Times had changed.

Gandalf squeezed Bilbo's arm and let him go.

Bilbo started merrily down the trail, singing a low song to himself that Gandalf knew well.

The road goes ever on and on…

And so it would. Bilbo's road still held an adventure or two for him. But his days of carrying that tokan of his first adventure were over, and so Gandalf could, for the first time in fifty years, relax and let the hobbit go where he would unwatched.

Gandalf had always much admired hobbits for their carefree spirits. At the moment he almost envied Bilbo for his lack of knowledge about the dark things of the world. The grander races of Middle Earth, those who knew of the existence of hobbits, sometimes mocked his interest in the little race. Gandalf didn't argue. Let people think he came for the pipe weed alone. The less of them that knew the true peace and uncomplicated nature of this land, the less of them that would come to disturb it. Even his intrusion, as rare as it was, brought complications upon these little hobbits.

"Until we meet again," he spoke softly to the departing hobbit.

"Bilbo?"

Gandalf peered into the fire burning in the small fireplace. He noted the opening of the door and the presence of young Frodo Baggins. Noted it, but was too deep in his own thoughts to pay attention.

Though Frodo was no doubt going to stay until Gandalf offered some hint about the prank Bilbo had played in front of practically the whole of the Shire.

"He's gone, isn't he?" Frodo's footsteps brought him further into the room, until he was right behind the wizard. "He spoke so often about leaving. Somehow I never thought he'd actually do it."

Gandalf pulled himself out of his dark thoughts of this mysterious ring of power. It disturbed him not to know the full extent of the power the ring held. That Bilbo had had to be frightened into giving the thing up was odd enough to be troubling. And something in the words Bilbo had spoken that night still bothered Gandalf.

But at last he turned to Frodo and smiled as comfortingly as a grim old man could smile. "He's gone to stay with the elves. He's left you Bag End, along with all of his possessions."

The news did not bring much comfort into the troubled face of the hobbit who had just lost the last member of his family. "I don't understand why he felt he had to leave."

Here it came, then. Gandalf studied the hobbit. In a way Frodo was almost the opposite of Bilbo – even the respectable Bilbo Gandalf had first met. He was serious, for a hobbit. Quick to thoughtful silence, while most of his kind would just as soon drink and laugh away any uncertainties. He would relax at times – with Bilbo, or his two rather ridiculous kinsmen who most often came to call. Still, he was a better choice than Bilbo to hold this ring. His solemnity would dispose him to listen to Gandalf's words more closely, and perhaps he could be made to leave this ring alone and unused until Gandalf could find out more information.

Gandalf nodded over his head at the mantle. "There's an extra little present for you that I feel we should talk about." His voice was as casual as it ever was. The key to this would lie in not stressing its importance.

Frodo moved around him and found the envelope. "In here?"

Gandalf nodded.

Frodo tugged the envelope open. He peered into it, then turned a furrowed brow to Gandalf. "I don't understand."

Sharp alarm and suspicion instantly filled Gandalf's mind. He stood, reaching for the envelope. "Is there nothing inside?"

"No, nothing." Frodo held it out.

Confound that hobbit! Gandalf had thought Bilbo to be free of deception, at least against him.

He went to the door quickly and grabbed his hat and cloak from where they hung on hooks. "At least he can't have gotten far," he muttered to himself.

"You're going after Bilbo?" Frodo followed Gandalf out the door and down the path to the road.

Gandalf paid him no mind. Perhaps it was better Frodo witness this, so that the younger hobbit could begin to appreciate the influence of a ring of power over even his own favorite uncle. Perhaps stressing the seriousness of this matter was what was needed after all.

Before they could get far, they heard voices coming towards them from further down the path. Light, happy hobbit voices, and familiar. Moments later the source of those voices came into view in the form of still-soot-covered hobbits.

"It's Gandalf! And cousin Frodo!"

"Careful, Merry, he looks as though he's got some scold left in him."

Gandalf frowned at them. Meriadoc and Peregrin; two hobbits he had known in his comings and goings since they were born, though of course not as well as Bilbo or young Frodo. The two kinsmen of whom he had recently been thinking, ridiculous and thoughtless the both of them. They were a distraction he could not afford.

Unfortunately, they weren't inclined to let their cousin go so silently.

"Why, Frodo! Imagine running into you here! We were on our way to Bag End."

"If you're looking for Bilbo he's already left," Frodo answered from behind Gandalf.

Gandalf kept moving, striding past the two hobbits. "We have no time for mischief. Get out of our way at once."

Pippin Took ignored the wizard's urgency, even sniffing as if offended by it. "Well. At least there's one Baggins who knows how to treat others with respect."

At his side his inseperable other half, Merry, laughed. "If respect is what you would call that odd meeting. It was kind of Bilbo to let us in on the joke, though."

Gandalf turned at that, retracing his steps to where the hobbits stood. He glowered down at the two troublesome hobbits. "You've seen Bilbo since his party?"

Merry looked up at him with wide eyes, obviously surprised at the sudden attention. "On this road, bare minutes ago."

Pippin nodded. "He was nice enough to let us know he hadn't vanished for good, though he wouldn't say more than that. Other than some strange comment about knowing what's best for his own things. And he left in such a hurry he ran into poor Merry near hard enough to knock him over."

Gandalf straightened and glared out at the path in front of him. "He knows best, does he?"

Merry's eyes went to Frodo. "Now cousin. If there's mischief in the air you know well enough we want to be a help in it. But just the same if there's trouble I hope you know we could be a help in that as well."

"I do know." Frodo smiled. "If this were my trouble I would share it with you, but I have no idea what's going on, to be honest."

Gandalf moved away, irritated at the chatter and eager to catch up to Bilbo.

Hobbits moved very quietly nearly all the time, but Gandalf could hear the soft patter of footsteps behind him.

"What's Bilbo done?" Pippin's voice asked behind Gandalf.

"I'm not sure," Frodo answered. He was already huffing for breath after following Gandalf's long-legged, fast strides. "He's left, but that was no unexpected thing. He and Gandalf have spoken of it before. From what I can gather Bilbo was supposed to have left me something behind, but changed his mind. You know how Bilbo is."

Pippin laughed. "He knows what's best for his own things. That remark makes more sense now."

"That's quite enough, Frodo." Gandalf didn't look back, but put his trust in Frodo to read his tone of voice and realize that this talk could do harm.

There was silence behind him for a moment.

"Frodo?" Merry's voice was a bit quieter, in deference to the wizard, but more curious than anything. "Do you suppose it has something to do with this ring?"

Gandalf turned so sharply he nearly lost his balance. "Ring?"

Pippin and Frodo were looking to Merry's closed fist in interest.

"Ring? When did he give you a ring?"

"When he ran into me as he was leaving. I could feel him slip it into my pocket." And with those words, Merry stretched out his hand and opened his fingers, revealing the deep shine of a golden ring.

Gandalf, for one of the first times in his very long life, was struck dumb.