Deep inside Fangorn Forest, Merry and Pippin, Hobbits of the Shire, wait for Treebeard and the Entmoot to decide if they should attack Isengard.
"Why is it taking them so long?" Pippin groans as Merry puts another log onto their fire.
"Just try to go to sleep, Pip," Merry says, growing tired of Pippin's questions of late.
"We have to do something, Merry," Pippin says, "Otherwise it's all for not."
"What're we supposed to do?" Merry says, "We're Hobbits! Not Ents! It's their forest, not ours."
"Besides," he continues, "We've already tried to reason with them."
"We could try again," Pippin says.
"It'll only make things take longer, interrupting them," Merry says.
"Go to sleep," Merry adds, "They're not going to do anything tonight, you know that."
"I suppose you're right," Pippin says.
Merry sits on the other side of Pippin, not laying down, but sitting, peering into the fire. All of their friends are out on grand adventures and they're stuck in the forest, waiting, always waiting, for other people to make decisions for them. They always get treated like children, as though their opinions are as small in meaning as their size. Merry wishes he could change things, that he could be riding with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimili, into battle. But Merry is much safer than his friends. Safety should be a blessing, not a curse. After all, if he knew what it truly took out of Frodo and Sam to carry the ring to Mordor, he would surely not wish to trade places with them.
A few minutes later Merry walks a few paces away to get some water to put out the fire. There's no use wishing for things that cannot be. He plunges the nearby vase deep into the pool, making sure to get enough to put it completely out. Strictly speaking they should never have lit the fire in the first place, what with the burning of leave and trees. Treebeard would most definitely not understand.
Merry holds the vase with both hands, for it's too heavy for a mere hobbit to carry alone. He looks up, down into the dark trees and spots something odd. A bright blue-white light shines in the forrest. "Pippin!" he whispers loudly.
Pippin does not answer him. Merry slowly puts the vase down on the ground for safe-keeping. He calls Pippins name once more but still receives no answer. He takes a few steps forward and peers back at him. Pippin lays upon the ground in silent slumber, chest rising and falling peacefully. He decides not to wake him, to let Pippin enjoy his momentary peace.
He walks further into the woods and the light becomes brighter and brighter. The light is moving slowly, but swiftly, moving to the East, like some sort of animal. Merry has to wonder if it's Gandalf, coming back for them. It couldn't be. Gandalf is off somewhere in Rohan, it would be days until he'd return. If that. Merry shakes his head, not wanting to think about the wizard dying twice. Instead he focuses on the light. He hears footsteps entering from the West, and throws himself behind a tree. Merry grasps at his belt but remembers there's nothing there, no elvish knife, it was taken from him. Though the light is white and pure, whatever follows it might not be.
He peers out from behind a tree and sees a dark-haired boy in strange clothes, brandishing a small stick. A great light extends from the stick, but it is not the light, which Merry has been following. What sorcery is this?
Despite his skepticism, Merry follows the boy, careful to stay out of his sight. It was easy enough for a Hobbit, though he has grown several inches since the beginning of his stay in Fangorn.
He's now only a mere ten paces from the boy. He's unlike any other man Merry's seen before. Still, he does not approach him, Saruman has many spies in the forest. Treebeard warned them about straying too far, especially at night.
"Lumos Maxima!" the boy yells, and Merry steps back.
What strange words, in a foreign tongue. The light from his small stick shines brighter, and forms a giant orb, which the boy throws into the forest. In an instant, everything is illuminated. Merry shields his eyes, moving to the next tree, as both he and the figure stop. Merry shifts his weight and snaps a twig. He closes his eyes in fear. "Who's there?" the boy says, almost in a whisper.
Merry's ears perk up with excitement, though he doesn't reveal himself. He peers around the other side of the tree, gazing upon a surprising sight. The light Merry has followed is no mere ball of light. It's a doe.