The night has a thousand eyes,

And the day but one;

Yet the light of the bright world dies

With the dying sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes,

And the heart has but one;

Yet the light of a whole life dies

When love is done.

Francis Bourdillon

Alone, Merry sat in the hobbit lodgings at The Prancing Pony. A meal of ale and soup, untouched, lay in front of him on the table. Candlelight flickered in the background, spreading shadows all over the room. In the corner of his eye, Merry caught a glimpse of a dark figure. His head turned and he gained a clear view of the person. Stinging tears rose to his eyes. He darted from his seat, knocking the chair over, arms stretched out for embrace. Finding himself wrapped around the curtain, he realized the figure was nothing more then a figment of his imagination.

'I am losing my mind,' he thought, disentangling himself from the curtain.

There was a soft knock at the door. Merry walked to the door, opened it, and stared blankly at his friend. Sam gave a faint smile but it quickly vanished when Merry would not return it. For a few moments they stood staring at one another, not saying a word. Coughing low, Sam spoke up.

"Is it alright if I come in for a bit?" asked Sam. "The hallway is becoming a tad too drafty for me."

"I suppose you can," Merry curtly said, taking a seat at the table. "I surely cannot stop you from entering."

Sam was taken back by Merry's harshness but entered the room anyway, seating himself across the other hobbit. He stared down at the cold meal and chewed on his lips nervously.

"I think it would be wise for you to eat your meal, Merry," said Sam. "A healthy hobbit needs at least six meals a day and you have gone without any."

"I'm not very hungry right now Sam," Merry replied, shoving the food away. "I will eat something in the morning."

"Please, Merry, you need food in your belly," Sam prodded. "If you don't eat something you will grow weak."

Sweat began to form on Merry's brow; he was losing his patience. "Sam, I do not wish to eat right now. I only want to be left in peace."

"You must eat...." Sam said.

In a violent fit Merry slammed his fist into the table, spilling the ale and soup. Sam flinched and nearly toppled from his seat. A chill ran down his spine as he looked into Merry's eyes. He didn't know those eyes. Those eyes were once clear and serene, now glazed over and bloodshot. Merry's demeanor soon changed though. His eyes softened and a shadow crept along his face, seemingly wrung with pain.

"Forgive me Sam," Merry murmured, on the verge of tears. "I did not mean to frighten you, forgive me. It has been such a long day and I am so tired."

"It is understandable," replied Sam. "You have suffered far too much in one day. Try to sleep if you can, I will leave you in peace."

Sam rose from his seat and headed for the door.

"Wait, Sam," Merry called. Sam halted. "I must know, was Delton still alive when you left?"

"No, he passed shortly before I departed," answered Sam. "The damage to his organs was too great and the flow of blood would not cease. Brombleburr and I did all we could for him. Before he died he made me promise that I would give this to you." His hand slid into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small envelope. "Apparently, before we arrived to help her, Estella made Delton swear to that you would receive this. Any reason as to why she would give him this is unknown. I do not know what is in it for it is not my business. No doubt something intimate for your eyes-only. I will warn you now, there is blood at the edges whether it be his or hers I cannot wager." He put the envelope on the table. "I will leave you be now. If you need anything I will be in the room across from yours."

The door shut and Merry gazed down at the white envelope. A sob caught in his throat as he noticed bloodied fingerprints at the side of the paper. It was quite obvious whose they were. An itchy, burning sensation rose to his eyes as he took the envelope in his hands. He could smell Estella's perfume as he tore it open. His fingers dipped inside to grope for the contents. A smile formed on his face while thinking back to old times.

Two small hobbit boys meander around a flowing stream, occasionally kicking at the stones. One of the boys leaped onto a log and began to walk across, drawing closer to the bubbly water. The other came up behind, fidgeting nervously.

"Pippin, I think you are too close to the creek," Merry squeaked. "I think you should come back."

"Oh, quite your griping," Pippin laughed. "There is no need for fear, Merry. I have a graceful, wonderful balance thank you very much."

Pippin wavered and Merry cried out as he saw his cousin begin to topple over. The hobbit suddenly laughed, whirled around, and stuck his tongue out at Merry.

"That was not funny!" Merry snapped. "You should not scare me like that! Now, get off that log and come back over here!"

"Aw, you are such ninny," Pippin sighed, hopping off the log.

"I am not a ninny!" Merry growled.

"Why not prove it?" Pippin challenged. "I bet you wouldn't walk across this log. Too scared to do it no doubt."

"I am not scared!" snapped Merry. "Out of my way."

Merry shoved him aside and cautiously placed his feet on the wood. The log swayed in the current nearly knocking into the grass. Biting his lower lip Merry continued to walk across, strolling over deep water. When he reached the edge he turned around smirking at Pippin. The younger hobbit scowled.

"Well, once again I have proven you wrong little cousin," Merry chuckled.

"Laugh it up while you still can," Pippin muttered.

"I--"

Merry never finished. The log underneath him snapped, sending him reeling into the cool water. He surfaced quickly, trying to grasp what was left of the log, but the current carried him away. Every now and then he would go under, faintly hearing the distant cry of his cousin. He came back up gasping for air, crying his cousin's name, only to be dragged back under. Cold water rushed into his lungs as he sank to the sandy bottom. A feeling of hopelessness spread in him until he heard something crashing above him. A shadowy mass slipped beside him, took hold of his shoulders, and kicked back toward the surface. Once on land he panted and rolled on his side, spitting up water. Expecting to see his cousin, Merry's eyes widened in shock when he saw a young girl.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"I--I think," Merry replied. "Who are you?"

"I am Estella," she said. "I was walking through the woods when I heard your cousin screaming so I ventured over. When I reached the creek bank I saw your form slipping under water. I figured your cousin could not swim so I just jumped in after you. Speaking of which, I think he passed out."

"I am certain he will be fine," said Merry. "Where do you live and how do you know how to swim?"

"I live near Sarn Ford," Estella replied. "I am here with my parents to visit Uncle Clemmon in Crickhollow. As for the swimming, I was taught at a very young age by my mother. Not all hobbits of the Shire lack swimming skills. We practically live on the Brandywine River. My mother thought it was best to teach me since so many of the children were falling in and drowning. Perhaps I could teach you how to swim sometime."

"I think I would like that," Merry said. "Thank you, for saving my life."

"That is it?" Estella asked. "You are only going to thank me? It only seems proper to give me a reward for saving your neck."

Merry's face became flustered. "I, uh--"

Estella gave a hearty laugh. "I am kidding. Sheesh, can you not tell when someone is joking? Knowing that you are safe is reward enough."

She sat up, intending to leave to leave, when Merry grabbed her arm. As she turned to face him, he placed something in her palm and closed her fist around it. Blushing furiously, he stepped back and ran into the brush. There, he found his cousin in wait.

"So, who is your new girlfriend?" Pippin said, sneering.

"I thought you passed out," Merry grumbled.

"I woke up in time to see that little spectacle cousin," Pippin said. "Uh, I cannot believe you like a girl."

"I do not like her," Merry snapped, gazing back over the brush.

"Then why are you watching her every movement?" asked Pippin.

"I want to see if she likes what I gave her," answered Merry.

"What did you give her anyway?" Pippin inquired, playing with his feet.

"A tiny pebble I found on the bank," Merry muttered.

"A pebble?" Pippin laughed. "You gave her a pebble? Yes, I am certain a girl will go head over heels for that Merry. What color was it?"

"It was the one I found earlier, remember?" Merry said. "It was the white pebble with the blue flame in it."

"Oh, that one," Pippin said, rolling his eyes. "Well, that makes all the difference. I'm hungry. Can we go home or do I have to sit here for an hour while you watch your girlfriend?"

"She is not my girlfriend!" Merry yelled, tackling his cousin to the ground.

The two laughed as they tickled, punched, and pinched each other.

A tear rolled down Merry's cheek as he opened his palm. In his hand sat the same pebble he had given Estella. All this time, something he thought trivial and worthless, Estella had kept it. He gazed down at the coloring, white as snow with a long branch of light blue in the middle. Rubbing the smooth surface in his palm, he remembered back to happier times.

He could recall the first time she had taught him to swim years later; the way he panicked and held onto her like a child. The time when he and Pippin tried to help water her garden only to turn it into a miniature pond. But most of all he remembered their first kiss. Under a tree they had laid, staring up at the stars, chatting about the future. It was Estella that had made the first move, leaning over and kissing his cheek. He had turned his head, pressing his lips against hers, only to let go as an apple struck the side of his face. Pippin earned a good beating that night.

Merry couldn't help but laugh. There were so many fond memories of his dear Estella and his cousin. The happiness died within though. He had lost them both and it was a long way off before he would see them again. Tears not of pain, but of anger bathed his cheeks. It wasn't fair that he had to suffer. He deserved peace and joy and all that had been ripped away from him. The pebble fell to the floor. The table soon followed, crashing loudly, drowning out his curses. He fell to the floor wailing and clutching at his hair.

'I cannot go on like this....'

A loud knock erupted from the door but he didn't hear it.

'I cannot bear another day....'

The knock grew louder and the handle jiggled. This time a voice followed.

"Merry! Merry, are you alright?" Sam cried, pounding on the door. "Open the door! Merry? Merry, open the door this instant!"

Ignoring the plea, Merry drew out his sword. Standing up, he glared down at the blade, Areas not coated in dry blood shined in the firelight. He brought the tip around, pointing it near his belly. Sighing, he almost drove the blade through his flesh when a distant voice echoed in his mind.

"Promise me!" Pippin cried.

"I promise, on your heart, that I will not take my life!" Merry yelled.

Merry wavered, momentarily dropping the blade at his side. His legs buckled and he knelt to the floor weeping. The voice disappeared and Merry took the blade once again, this time pressing it against his wrists. Sharp steel slid down his flesh, cutting him open, droplets of blood spilling to the floor. Before he could dig deeper a hand knocked the blade away from him. He gazed up in fury to view Sam hovering over him with equal rage glinting in his eyes. Sam grasped him by the collar and shook him.

"What in blazes do you think you are doing?!" he screamed. "How could you do such a thing?! That was foolish! You could have killed yourself!"

"I think that was the idea," Merry growled, pushing the other hobbit away. "Get out, now."

"No," Sam snarled. "Obviously you cannot be left alone. I'm not leaving Merry."

"Get out," Merry hissed, "or I will make you leave and I do not think you will like that much."

"How could you be so selfish?" Sam asked, ignoring the threat. "A son waits for you at home and you pull something like this? Did you not ponder what might happen to him if you died?"

"I care not," Merry answered. "As far as I am concerned he can rot. It should have been him that lay dead in bed, not Estella."

A stinging slap grazed across his face, causing him to slightly fall back. Both hobbits stared at one another in silence. Fear strode back into Sam's heart as he glanced into Merry's bitter eyes. Now, more than ever, he regretted his actions. He didn't intend for a fight to start but it looked as if he created one.

"You should not talk of your son that way," Sam murmured. "It is not proper."

Merry continued to stare at him, his brow wrinkled in the shadows. Before Sam could react the other hobbit was upon him. The two came crashing to the floor with Merry on top, pinning Sam down with his weight. Sam gave a startled cry as Merry's fist slammed across his jaw. Trying to protect himself from other blows, Sam placed his hands over his face. Hit after hit was delivered each painfully striking his arms. Sam abruptly bucked, sending Merry reeling to the floor. Merry was back up in a flash though, instantly seizing Sam by the hair. Sam tilted his head and once he gained a clear view of Merry he struck him in the nose and in the ear. Merry fell to the floor grunting in pain. For a moment Sam stood over him, waiting for the hobbit to rise up. But he pushed his anger aside and darted to his room. All Merry could do was lie on the floor staring in shock. Shame flooded through his mind when he realized what he had done. He attacked a friend.

For what seemed hours, he remained on the floor weeping bitterly. His eyes flew open as he felt soft hands groping his shoulders. Looking up, he saw Sam hovering over him. The hobbit's lower jaw had turned black and blue. Grief stricken, he latched onto Sam's neck for a crushing hug.

"I'm sorry," he cried. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry....."

"Quiet," Sam said. "It is alright. I understand. You are forgiven." Gently, he rocked Merry. "Let me see your arm."

Obediently, he lifted his arm. Although not deep, blood was still trickling down from the slash wound. Sam took a cloth from his pocket and wrapped it around the opening before applying firm pressure.

"That is a nasty cut," Sam murmured. "We need to take you to a doctor before it becomes infected." He helped Merry to his feet. "But do not assume you are out of the woods over this issue. I can guarantee that you and I will have a lengthy discussion when we return to Crickhollow. For now, let us visit the doctor."

"Very well," answered Merry. "Is it alright if I find something? It belonged to Estella and I do not want to leave it. Do you mind if I ask you to wait outside?"

Sam gave Merry a suspicious glance but nodded. He turned and walked out the door into the hallway. Sam's face burned like fire when he heard a strangled yelp from the room. Now he realized his mistake. He ran back into the room and nearly screamed at the sight. There, before him, stood Merry holding onto the butt end of the sword while the other half was embedded in his stomach.

More to follow.