Disclaimer: Ah, der. I don't own LotR. So what? I still get to mutilate the characters.

A/N: Merry just doesn't get enough recognition in fanfic. This idea popped into my head, strangely enough, while reading FotR. The closeness of the Old Forest coupled with the adventurous spirit of the Brandybucks could make an interesting combination, and (hopefully) an interesting story. This is my take on the real reason the Brandybucks used that gate.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Watching around him carefully, the young hobbit crept out of the large back garden of Brandy Hall. Silently he opened the gate and made for the nearest bush. Once he was sure that no-one was around he began to run down the lane behind the Hall, keeping his head lowered to avoid being seen. He was so intent on making sure he didn't step on a twig that he ran head-on into an older, more sensible hobbit out for a morning stroll.

"Oof!" The older hobbit stumbled backwards indignantly. The young offender was sitting, winded, on the ground.

The older one, feeling a bit out of breath himself, looked hard at the mud-covered face and curly hair in front of him. Suddenly he began to chuckle.

"Master Meriadoc, eh? I should have known. What are you up to this time, hmm?"

Master Meriadoc was immediately on his guard. "Ah, well, nothing really, sir, just poking about, really."

"Poking about? Is that an excuse to go running headlong into respectable folks' bellies as if a pack of wolves was after you? And what's all that dirt doing on your face?"

Merry, as usual, had an excuse ready. "Camouflage, sir. I was playing at being on an adventure and I was being attacked, you see."

"Humph. Well next time, make sure you watch what's in front of you as well as what's behind." The hobbit trundled off, chuckling to himself about "playing adventures."

Actually Merry was doing nothing of the sort. He continued walking and trying to look inconspicuous. It was not a short journey, and the heavy pack of food on his back became steadily lighter as he went. The sun was high above his head before he came to his destination: a towering hedge, forming a barrier as far as he could see either side. On Merry's side of the hedge, the land was typical of any part of the Shire, and very much the hobbits' domain. There were cultivated trees, shrubs, gardens and fields of still-growing crops. A slight breeze stirred branches, and tranquillity reigned over all.

The other side, however, was a different story. Enormous trees towered over the hedge. The depths of the forest were dark and unquestionably wild. Tangled branches and rotting leaves were intertwined with vines and dangling moss. The Old Forest was old beyond memory, untamed, and ever watchful.

This was what Merry saw as he stood looking upwards in awe. The nearest trees stood alert as guards, and it seemed all their attention was bent on his small form.

Suddenly a twig behind him snapped, the sound perfectly clear in the still air. Merry jumped at least a foot in the air, not bothering to look behind him before scurrying out of sight, back the way he had come. Behind him, a rabbit stepped delicately over the broken twig in its path and sniffed at the evening air.

I know, I know, too short, but more is on the way. Will write for reviews!