Chapter 2

To him, it seemed as if the days were not divided by day and night; but from picking up one encampment and moving on, steadily on toward the next. His feet dragged and his heart was heavy. As the pale daytime slowly crept into a foreboding dusk they finally stopped. After well over a days march and little resting time in between Merry was exhausted. He threw himself on to the ground and slept soundly; if only for a small amount of time. It had only felt like a few minutes of slumber when he was suddenly awoken by a rough shake from a man.

"Master Holbytla! Wake up! The king calls for you," he said.

"Is something the matter?" he cried, looking out from the tent flap to see it was still dark. Surely the king would only call for him during the middle of the night if something was wrong.

"No, all is well. He just wishes to speak with you," the man replied, reassuring him.

"But it is still dark out. The Sun has not yet risen," said Merry while flinging on some clothes. The man suddenly became grave.

"The Sun will not rise today," he said in a low voice. "Nor anytime soon, I should expect. Indeed dark days are upon us." Merry just pinned his brooch on his cloak and followed his caller outside.

Men were gathered all along the camp whispering hurriedly to one another. None paused to give him a glance as he walked by. Their stern, dogged faces would be forever etched in his memory. He could not only see their determination, but feel it. With all their might they tried to blow away the feeling of dread and despair all round them and replace it with fervent resolve that they could, that they would somehow overpower this Black Shadow. How it would be done, however, seemed out of their mental grasp. But it seemed to no avail. Fear still clung to each man's heart tenaciously; the darkness of the foreboding dark sky seemed too heavy. Merry felt the sudden urge to cry aloud woefully.

They reached the entrance to the king's abode and Merry entered inside to find that Theoden was engaged in a conversation with another man. He stood silently by the door and waited for the king to acknowledge his presence.

Hirgon the messenger of Gondor was speaking to the king. His voice was strong but there seemed to be hidden within a tone of fearfulness. If he was frightened he showed no outward signs of being so.

"The Shadow, my Lord. It is coming from Mordor. Last night as I rode I saw it. It is coming from the hills of the Eastfold. It will surely come our way and though my heart quails I - we, we would find great solace if you and your people were to come along side us and bear arms. I fear that if we do not act quickly and especially hand-in-hand the result will not be favorable. My lord," he said, the utmost importance clearly evident in his voice. "If we do not stand together we will fall. War has begun. We need your help."

King Theoden sat in silence for a while, his face hidden by his hand upon which he was leaning. At length he gave a great sigh. "I should have known. I should have known that in the end it would come to this. It has come at last. We have passed from one great evil to the next; one battle after another. It grieves me." And then as if speaking to no one in particular he muttered, "So much death...." Merry felt his heart pang for him. If only there was some way he could help. If just somehow he could aid the King he would have done it in an instant. This newfound reverence for a man he barely knew was only slightly overwhelming, but Merry could not hold it back. He felt that he owed his allegiance and service to Theoden for a reason other than Merry's sworn duty.

Suddenly the King stood up; quite abruptly for Hirgon jumped back a little. He seemed wearied no longer but determined and impatient.

"Hirgon," he said. "Tell Denethor that he shall have his man-in-arms. We are coming to war." For Hirgon it seemed a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders, but Merry swallowed resolutely, and stood up ever straighter.

"My Lord, I thank you. We shall never forget this day. Let the alliance between Gondor and Rohan never waiver again!" He bent low in gratitude and respect.

"We do not have much time for gathering together all our provisions," the King mused. "Have you much store and provisions?"

"Yes, a very great store has been long prepared," replied Hirgon. He continued almost hesitantly. "If you should be off, do so now. The approaching Doom shall not wait for the unprepared when delivering It's strike."

"Indeed," Theoden murmured. He turned to his nephew. "Eomer," he said. "Call the heralds. The Riders shall be sent forth into the midst of battle!" Eomer departed from the tent and very soon the sound of trumpets was heard, lowing and ominous.

Theoden, again, seemed deep in thought and Merry wished not to disturb him. So much was at stake, so impending and pressing was the darkness and he himself was an unimportant little Hobbit from the Shire, or so he thought; this was not his land, these were not his people and yet he found himself compelled to aid them in any way possible. He felt that he was just a trivial, insignificant piece of the puzzle at this point.

Merry did not know how to make his presence known but was saved from trying when King Theoden turned to look at him.

"Ah, Master Meriadoc," he said with a sad smile upon his face. "I am leaving for war. Very soon we shall take up the road and be on our way. It is not my pleasure to do so, but I feel that I must relieve you from your service to me. Our friendship, however, I do not wish to sever. You shall stay and serve Eowyn instead, who will be taking on the governing of our people. Your service to me, though short, shall never be forgotten."

Merry stood silent, his face contorted in confusion and grief. Released? No, no. He was too ready, too willing to follow the man he was sworn into service with. He could not be let go.

"B-but, lord," the words came clumsily from his tongue. "I was sworn to serve you. I offered you my sword. I wish - I wish follow you! I do not want to be parted such as this, King Theoden. All my friends, they have gone off to war!" He glanced downwards with his brow furrowed. "I would be ashamed if I were the only one not to go," he said softly.

Theoden said nothing at first, but stood in silent admiration of this more than willing perian. Though his time in service to the King was brief thus far Theoden gathered that Meriadoc was not saying this just to make the King think he was stout and courageous, but that he actually meant it. It stirred Theoden's heart to see Merry's dedication and fervor to a man that he hardly knew. But even so he felt that he could not let his servant accompany him. For someone so young and innocent to be made to march off to war was something Theoden could not do. Though he knew not about hobbits and their homeland and customs, there was a certain air of the lad that once was pure and carefree, lighthearted and cheerful; now marred and stained by the evils of war and war itself. Yet, somehow, the light still shown through, like beams of the sun penetrating a disheartening gray storm cloud. To further that darkening, however, was heartbreaking; Theoden would not allow it.

"But," said the King, his mind working furiously. "We ride swift on horseback. And we have no horse that would suit your needs, I'm afraid."

"Then tie me on to the back of your horse!" Merry said pleadingly. "Let me hang from a stirrup or pack me into a bag or…" he trailed off, uncertain what to do or say anymore. He flushed in annoyance and embarrassment for begging like a child to a King.

Theoden, however, took no notice of the presumed childlike beseech but instead felt his heart break with pity and compassion. Such loyalty was immensely difficult to turn aside. It would be arduous indeed to find a man among the ranks of Rohan who displayed such ardor as Meriadoc.

Pushing down his most immediate feelings, he gave a small rueful smile to the dismal looking hobbit. Theoden hunched down so that he was eye level with him.

"Your heart is great, Master Merry, perhaps even bigger then you yourself. And that is quality not to be overlooked." The King paused, a thoughtful look upon his face. After a moment, he spoke again. "Meriadoc," he prompted with a strained air.

"My lord?" Merry was crushed at what the King had forbade him to do and at this point wanted nothing more than to bow out humbly and return to his abode. He forced himself to keep his focus on what King Theoden had to say.

"I cannot say that I would not like to have you accompany me, for I surely would at such a time as this. However, it is imperative that you do as I say." The King gave a small sigh. "Do not think I do this out of spite, Meriadoc," he said gently. "For great company we have become to each other. But friend or not I would have you spared from the evils of war at all costs, if I can. Memories from the battlefield are not too soon to be forgotten," he added with a touch of bitterness.

Merry knew that King Theoden's decision could not be overruled. He bit his tongue and kept his thoughts to himself. Of course he took what he had said to him to heart, every word. But what should he tell his friends when they all returned (Or if they returned? He shoved that thought very far down into his mind.)? That he alone was left behind and had not helped serve the King unto which he had given his sword? He could not let that happen. He would not let that happen. He had not gone through all that he had to just sit and worry and fret about how the others were fairing. He wished to be standing next to them, a brother-in-arms, a soldier, fighting for whatever good was left in this world. It would be utterly humiliating not to.

"My lord," he said, disheartened. "If that is what you wish, so be it." Merry averted his eyes to anything other than to whom he was speaking. Theoden nodded.

"I am sorry, Merry," he said softly. Merry just swallowed, and nodded as well.

The King cleared his throat. "Eowyn, have Master Meriadoc be given some gear and be taken back to Stybba; he shall ride with us to Edoras and from there we march on to the plains of battle." Merry's head shot up; he had not even noticed that Eowyn was in the tent with them. Sure enough, she came forth, a look upon her face that which Merry could not quite determine.

"Yes, my lord," she replied. Together they strode out of the tent.

"Do not be so dismal," Eowyn murmured to him after a ways. "If you keep your hope, you will find a way." Merry looked up at Eowyn, confused, but she said no more.