Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien's estate.

Author's Note: Frodo is 35, Merry 21, Sam 20, and Pippin 13.

Falling into a Dream of Growing Shadow

"Frodo! Sam!" Merry called.

The two hobbits continued walking, however, giving no sign of hearing him. He tried to follow them, but they were too far ahead.

"Don't leave me! Let me come with you."

Merry tried to keep them in sight, but it was becoming difficult, for large snowflakes rapidly began to fall like a steady sheet.

"Frodo!"

The called hobbit paused and looked back at Merry with a seemingly regretful look. Merry tried to hurry forward toward his cousin, now still, but the snow was becoming deep. He tried to call out again, but his breath caught in his throat.

Behind Frodo rose out of the white was…was…. Merry did not know exactly what it was he saw. There were large ugly creatures whose gray skin was bumpy and rough- looking. There were tall creatures dressed in armor wielding deadly bows and arrows. Then there were figures dressed in the night, their faces hidden, with swords in their hands. A strange small creature on all fours shook a fist, its dark eyes glowing in the dark. "My precioussssssssssssss," came a hiss. After that, silence fell. Merry could not even hear the falling of the snow. A form of shadow and flame, with eyes of orange pools, cracked a whip. But then a deep, dark shadow took shape. Larger than all the other creatures, it spread as though to cover everything in its path. It bore down on Frodo, who was oblivious to the oncoming danger.

Merry tried to call out, but the shadow came between him and his cousin. A great yell was heard. Merry finally found his feet and trudged as fast as he could through the snow. He groped blindly about, seeing nothing but darkness. He gave a cry of surprise as he fell over something.

"Merry."

The hobbit barely heard his name being whispered. "Who is it?"

"Merry."

"Frodo?" Merry breathed, searching for his cousin in the darkness. There was no answer. "Frodo!"

Merry gasped and opened his eyes. Stars winked at him high above. Merry frowned; what was he doing outside? He pressed a hand to his cheek and discovered that tears were streaming down his face. Wiping them away, Merry sat up in his bedroll. On his left lay Sam, fast asleep. To his right were Frodo and Pippin, also contentedly asleep. Seeing all this brought memory back to Merry. Of course! The four of them were camping out. It was a special treat that Frodo had wanted to give Merry as a present; he had just turned twenty-one. How could he have forgotten? Merry bent over Sam and listened for several seconds to his friend's steady breathing, making sure he was well. Then he listened to his older cousin's breathing, which was the same as the former hobbit's. Yes, he was alive. Nothing ill had befallen him. Gently Merry touched Frodo's dark curls, testing his reality. Yet he could still clearly see those creatures, those monsters that had approached his cousin. Was Frodo truly safe?

Merry wiped away a lone tear that sneaked down his face. Looking about the camp a final time, he settled back into his bedroll. He shivered as a light cool breeze blew through the trees. He burrowed further under the warm blankets.

He nearly jumped when an arm wrapped around him in a protective manner and drew him close. But he immediately relaxed at the voice whispering in his ear.

"Go to sleep, dear one."

Merry sighed and moved into Frodo's embrace, feeling safe. His eyes grew heavy and then closed as Frodo quietly sang a lullaby, and his fears and wonderings were left behind.

THE END