This is easily the worst of the lot. I'm not saying it sucks, but Merry's was the first one I did. I kinda like it, but it's not as expansive as the others, it doesn't cover as much ground. I hadn't gotten the hang of LotR then (I still don't think I have it fully), but it got better as time went on. You can see what I mean if you look at Bilbo's, his was the second one I did.

(By the way, Elwing, if you're reading this, do you ever go into the anime section?)

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This monologue is from Merry's point of view, trying to explain what he's thinking Frodo is going through before they all set off together on the quest (it takes place right before Frodo, Pippin, and Sam get to Frodo's new home).



Sometimes lately I don't know what is the matter with him. He's so secretive lately, so withdrawn and private. He was never the most talkative of us - that dubious honor is fought for between myself and Pippin - and he always seemed contemplative. Withdrawn, almost, from the regular cares of the world. But he's been brooding even more than usual in these past few months, as if he knows something inexplicably sad that we don't.

Several times this summer at least one of us, usually Sam, has followed him on his walks, and he'd pause in a place we see every day and wonder aloud if he'd ever see it again. We all knew he was planning on moving, but this seemed to reach deeper than that: it was like he was going away for good, not just a small distance that could be covered in two days. There was just something peculiar in his manner, something that kept walking up to us and saying, "something is wrong here".

He wasn't able to hide it. We knew Frodo so well that we could detect any minute change in his manner from a distance, even at mealtimes… except when we were very, very hungry. There was something in him that made him completely transparent to us, released the colors of his soul for us to read as easy as the words on the tavern sign; perhaps easier, as his emotions weren't faded with age. And so Pippin and I have both noticed the secretiveness that is beginning to become a permanent part of our dear friend, which he's plainly trying to conceal from us and doing a horrible job with it. We know he would only do this for a very worthwhile reason, but we are not letting him go through it alone.

No, poor Frodo has no idea just how stubborn his friends are. I suppose the older lot will think we're fools, following the young heir of one hobbit who is plainly considered to be slightly off his rocker off on some "adventure" we know nothing about, giving no notice, traipsing off as if we had a taste for heroics. Uncomfortable business, heroics; probably none of us are suited for them, except maybe Frodo. But if he is to go into danger, we will follow him. Somehow, we know he'll need us wherever he's going, and we won't let him go it alone.

And then I dimly hear a knock, and voices speaking, and I know that my friends have arrived. Frodo still believes that his plans are hidden - but he won't for much longer. We plan to reveal ourselves, my fellow conspirators and I, tonight at dinner. So I take a deep breath and begin to walk up the hallway that leads to the outer rooms, setting in motion the workings of the trap that will catch its makers into Frodo's journey.