Merry lay still for a few minutes, wondering about Pippin. His friend had always been curious, but sometimes Pippin just didn't understand when to leave things alone. He was so fascinated by that glass ball, wouldn't let the thought of it out of his mind. Merry was glad he'd let the matter go at least until the morning. At least now they could get some rest before Gandalf urged them on further into Rohan...
... Merry lay dreaming, though of what exactly it was hard to tell. There were mountains shadowing the distance, there were lifeless plains, there were swampy marshes. Merry jumped when a voice right next to him whispered. "The hobbitses, they've got the Precious, they've got it, and there's two of them, precious. What must we do?"
Merry had heard that voice often enough in tales, or imitations of it, but none were ever this frightening and real. He couldn't see the creature, but he knew who it was. Gollum. He shivered. Then his mind began to put the bits of Gollum's speech together. Two hobbits...
Sam and Frodo.
An awful cry shattered the dream. Merry woke with a jolt, his nighttime thoughts forgotten, his eyes flitting immediately to the bed next to his. Empty.
No. Pippin, what have you done?