Disclaimer: Most of the used characters belong to Tolkien.

Merry stood staring out the window at the night sky. Atop the towers flags bearing the white tree shimmered in the moonlight. A cool breeze blew through his curls, sending chills down his spine. He moved away sitting down by the hearth. Reaching for a bowl of water he paused to gaze at his reflection. He shuddered at the image. Only twenty years had passed and time had taken its toll on Merry's body.

Quickly, he turned away from the reflection unable to bear the sight any longer. It had been a wretched week, a wretched twenty years for that matter. Within the week he had developed pneumonia and bruised ribs. King Elessar had ordered bed rest but that night he was unable to sit still. Restlessness was a plague for him. A soft knock on the door drew his attention.

"Come in," Merry said softly. The door opened revealing King Elessar. "Good evening lord. What brings you here to my room?"

"Just checking up on you friend," Elessar said, "and a good thing I came too. You're supposed to be in bed. Staying up this late in your stature will only make your illness worse."

"I know," Merry replied, "but I'm unable to sleep."

"Were you having those nightmares again?" Elessar asked. Merry nodded. "You should drink the brew the herbalist prepared for you. It may help with your uneasiness and your nightmares."

"How is the Shire, my lord?" Merry asked.

"It's fine, as it always was and always will be," Elessar answered. He eyed Merry. "I think I know what this is about. You're homesick, aren't you?"

"I'm afraid so," Merry sighed. "With every passing year it grew worse and worse and now it has gotten to the point where I feel as if I'll go insane. I just....I miss everyone."

"I know this must be extremely hard on you but it was for the best at the time," Elessar soothed. "The rage you harbored toward your son was dangerous. You did the right thing by leaving. However, a great deal of time has passed and I can see your emotions toward him have changed. I know your wish, you want to return to the Shire."

"Yes, that is what I would like to do," Merry said, "but I have doubts about doing so. As you've said, so much time has passed. The Shire I knew has probably transformed to a foreign land. A lot of change was taking place in the Shire when I left twenty years ago. Besides, even if I did return there would be nothing there for me. My son would be twenty years of age and probably wouldn't even know who I was. I doubt the Smallburrows would tell him the truth."

"I fear that your doubts are wrong," Elessar said. "I know for a fact, through the Palantir, that they told him the history of his real family five years ago. I didn't want to inform in worry that it would upset you. Your son has a strong desire to meet you."

"He does?" Merry beamed. "I must go see him at once!"

Elessar grasped his shoulders. "You are not going anywhere in your condition. Travel would only make your symptoms worse. Pneumonia is not something to fool around with. Many with strong bodies have died from it and you, my dear friend, do not have a very strong body at this point. It may take another two weeks for you to fully recover."

"Two weeks?! I can't wait that long!" Merry yelled. "You of all people know how much time I have left on Middle-earth. No, don't try to sugar code the matter for me. I've known for quite some time that my health has been failing and sooner or later death will be knocking at my door. I only wish I hadn't been so foolish. To wait so long to make a journey that I probably won't finish. Please, Elessar, in the name of our friendship you have to let me go. I'm willing to take the risk of death on the trip. Either way, by bed or journey, I will end up leaving this realm."

Elessar's eyes became downcast. "I'm sorry, Merry, but I just can't allow it. You wouldn't make it more then two days into the journey before you would keel over. I will send a messenger to Crickhollow to escort Peregrin Smallburrow to Minas Tirith. You will see your son."

"Is there no way I could change your mind?" Merry asked. Elessar shook his head. "As I thought." He slouched back into his chair.

Elessar took the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around his friend's heaving form. "It's for your own good Merry. I don't want to see you lose your life just as Pippin did. I'm not about to lose another friend so soon. I'll send out the messenger tonight. If he rides quickly, with little stops, he could manage to make it there within two weeks. As long as you get your rest and don't do anything foolish you shall live long enough to see your son one final time."

The king left the room. Merry wiped at his eyes while going over his thoughts. He couldn't wait six weeks for his son to arrive. Although he loved his king, Merry would have to go against his wishes. Rising from the seat he went though the drawers and began to pack for his trip. He would make his escape during the night.

Two hours later.....

Merry cautiously strode down the streets of The White City while holding the reins of his pony. Sneaking out of the castle had been a lot harder then he anticipated. Sneaking around the guards wasn't easy and getting past the ones down by the gate would be even harder. He was running behind schedule all ready. There were traces of the morning sun on the horizon. If he wanted to escape the grounds without Elessar knowing he would have to be out of there by morning. Finally, after another hour of trailing along the maze-like city he came across the massive gate. Two guards at the end perched up when they noticed his approach.

"Who are you and what is your business?" one asked.

"I am a messenger of King Elessar," Merry replied. "I am to leave immediately for the Shire to deliver a message."

"That's strange," said the other guard, "a messenger just passed a few moments ago about to deliver a message to the same place."

"Well, King Elessar left an important note out of the message so he wants me to catch up with the other messenger," Merry answered.

"Sounds like our great king," the guard chuckled. "As of late his memory hasn't been the best."

"No, I fear old age is finally catching up to him," the other laughed. "We'll let you pass through little one." The guards yelled an order up top and the gate shuddered before slowly opening. "We gave the other messenger a warning so we'll do the same for you. The land around here hasn't been its normal self. The unusual amount of rain we've been getting has flooded some of the areas. Not only will you have to watch for that but also the earth has become soft and crumbles easily. Take it easy with the pony on narrow paths. You never know when a piece of the trail could slide away, leaving you in a dismal situation. Also, there have been strange reports of a strange creature roaming the woods and farms around here. Livestock have been slaughtered. Some believe it's a wolf while others think it's an orc or troll. No one has been able to find whatever it is, yet anyway."

"Thank you for the warning," Merry said, mounting his steed. He coughed violently. "I will be careful."

The guard eyed him suspiciously. "Are you sure you should be traveling? You don't look so good little one. You're sweating and appear pale even in the meager light we have."

"I'm quite all right," Merry answered. "I was just notified at last minute and have been scrambling to get ready on time."

"Ah, I see," said the guard. "Well, best of luck to you. Farwell."

"Goodbye," Merry called as he took off from the city.

Soon, he was traveling along the woods and Minas Tirith went out of sight. Guilt for his actions rose in him but he suppressed it. There was nothing to feel guilty about; he had done nothing wrong. The desire to see his son was reason enough for his actions. Elessar, no doubt, would be furious with him but sooner or later he would understand and accept his decision. The ground around him was damp and the icy air burned at his lungs, causing him to hack loudly on several occasions. He took the elixir from his nap sack and drank the bitter fluid down. He sighed when it brought some relief to his heavy chest and aching lungs. The journey continued on through the woods when he came across a steep trail. The pony whined and tried to back away, seeming to sense something that Merry could not. The hobbit kicked the creature in its side and forced it to move on. The trail would provide a short cut, which would take a day off his trip. Traveling along he could hear a strange sound, resembling a pounding noise. He glanced up at the hills and shook off the sense of dread. Without warning the pony began to rear and buck.

"What's gotten into you!" Merry yelled, hanging on for dear life. "Whoa! Whoa!"

The pony threw him off, causing him to tumble down the slope and striking his back against a trunk. Gazing up he saw the pony begin to dart off when a massive claw broke out of the brush and snagged the steed. The body of a hill troll emerged from the foliage and bit down on the pony's neck, causing blood to spurt everywhere. The pony stilled. A feeling of nausea swept over Merry as he looked at the sickening beast ahead of him.

'How can this be?' Merry's mind screamed. 'I thought all trolls had turned to dust after the war. How did this one manage to remain undetected for so long?' His hand fell to his side, grasping at the small blade in his belt. 'I have to get away from here before it spots me and decides to turn me to dinner.'

The hobbit backed away as the troll began to gnaw at the pony's flesh. He was making good distance when he failed to notice a branch near his foot. When he stepped on it the twig it immediately snapped, echoing back toward the trail. Merry groaned when the troll's head snapped up and gazed in his direction. After taking a sniff of the air it lumbered toward him. Merry rose from the ground and bolted in the opposite direction. The stress of the situation overwhelmed his body. He hadn't been running for more then a minute when he began to feel exhausted. If he hadn't been ill, he could have gotten farter. Knowing he could go no more he spun around the face the towering creature. If his dear cousin Pippin had managed to slay one of the beasts then surly he could do the same. The creature came roaring toward him; arms raised up to make a crushing blow on his small body. Merry pivoted to the side and as the troll flew by he rammed the blade into its belly. The troll gave a strangled cry and began to tumble to the earth.

However, the creature managed to swipe its claw behind and took hold of Merry's cloak. The hobbit was also taken down the hill and rolled along side the troll. Both went crashing into a deep pond. The troll and Merry began to sink into the water and in the creature's panic it tightened its hold on Merry's cloak, preventing the hobbit any chance to escape. Deeper and deeper the two sank into the water, causing Merry not only struggle for freedom but also dodging the occasional claw of the troll still attempting to kill him. Water was swarming into Merry's mouth and nostrils. His lungs were on fire and his mind was screaming. The two had struck the bottom and Merry found himself growing weak and more panicked. His hand grazed the butt end of the sword, still imbedded in the troll's stomach. Using the strength he had left he pulled the blade out and cut a portion of his cloak off, freeing himself from the troll's grip. He began to swim for the surface when the creature's claw took hold of his foot. Merry screamed under the water and slammed the blade on the troll's arm. Instantly, he was released and swam at top speed toward the surface. He came back up gasping violently for air.

He waded over to the shore and collapsed against the sandy ground, coughing up water from his lungs. He was drenched and the cool air was freezing him. His insides felt as if they were on fire and he was tired. His eyelids were starting to droop and his battle to keep them open while trying to crawl away from the water was failing.

'Nice going Merry,' he scolded himself. 'What a fine mess you've gotten yourself into this time. Elessar was right, I was in no shape to make such a perilous journey. So, this is how it's going to end for me. To die out in the wilderness. I bet the animals will find me sooner then Elessar himself. What have I done? I'll never see my son ......'

He passed into darkness.

More to follow.