A/N: Well, this is the last bit of it. You could say this is the rewritten version of the rewritten version of the written version. I had some computer problems and lost my original, so I had to type it up again from what I remembered, and then decided it was a bit too dramatic and not at all what I wanted. So I cut and chopped and rewrote. I hope you can forgive me for such a long wait. Anyways, onto the rest of this story.

Chapter 25: It's No Good

A candle's light, warm and charming, danced and dispersed the shadows of Merry's bedroom, glowing from its spot on the beside table. Orange battled black on his walls, his eyes following the movement. Merry's own thoughts battled between the sides of his head, discretion and wisdom ramming horns with what Merry mused to be selfishness. He lay propped upon the comforter of his bed, pillows arranged and twisted beneath the crooks of his body, his arms stretched above him, hands holding his head. With a sigh, his gaze lifted from the walls up to the ceiling, just as he overturned a new thought.

Meriadoc had spent all night in this sullen position, sleep dodging his grasp. The morning rays must have been mere hours at bay, ready to begin a day without the rain, or at least Merry hoped. The tumult of his thoughts were enough for a thunderstorm, the only peace lying in the knowledge that Pippin may have found sleep easier in the other room. Pippin was also the cause of his speeding thoughts.

Pippin had to go home eventually. Their time in Bridgewater, though relaxing, was just a temporary respite from their troubles everywhere else. It was foreordained that sooner or later someone would find out, either his father perhaps just happening to visit or the secret suddenly being decoded. Whatever way it happened, he and Pippin were not going to stay together. And it wasn't fair.

Merry rubbed a hand across his eyes. It wasn't fair to him. Pippin, however, was still young and needed his family. Merry couldn't take care of him all that well. Good job of it I'm doing, he thought sarcastically, remembering the scare he had earlier that day. If something happened to Pippin, Merry didn't feel he would ever recover.

He would have to give him back. As much as he would regret it later on, he knew that their families were divided, perhaps by a stupid and childish reason, but still bitter all the same.

All of these thoughts reminded Merry of an old story he had once been told, a long time ago. Bilbo had told numerous stories of his adventures with Gandalf and the company of dwarves, back before he disappeared at his birthday party. Merry laughed and shook his head at the memory; all of those stories were fairy tales, for certain. There couldn't have been much true about them—some of those stories were too far-fetched for any hobbit, even those with too much ale on their minds. Bilbo always made a very big deal out of one particular adventure he had had, however, and sometimes went into very long variations of this adventure when he was allowed. Most of them were always the same—something about a birthday present given to him by a creature he had met in a cavern. But there was one time, one rainy night when Bilbo looked out into the horizon with a peaked countenance and sighed fixedly, when he told an entirely different version. Bilbo's voice had risen as though he was speaking defensively, as though being confronted by a secret too great to be bared alone.

"He was a foul creature, and he had slunk in the dark for a very long time. He lived near an underground pond and ate live fish and had a little boat he paddled along with his feet. His eyes were huge and glowing in the dark, and he hunched over and whispered to himself in a raspy voice. He was terrible to look upon, but soon I realized that he was a miserable and lonely creature. He had one possession that he truly claimed his own, and it was something that he treasured very much. One day, he lost it and searched a great long time for it. After a time, he realized that this thing he loved had been stolen away." And there, after the soft and slow revelation, Bilbo paused for just an instant, and his eyes hardened just a fragment. His words came as though he was trying to drive across a point. "And he realized . . .he had to let go of his treasure, because his treasure was better off without him."

"Fairy tales," Merry whispered into the dark, his lips testing the sounds. "Like ones I used to tell Pippin."

Standing, defeated, he decided it would all be dealt with in the morning, and for now he would make himself a snack. Snacks always helped with the difficult things in life, he decided. He trudged down the hall, sidestepping a water puddle they had missed, and was nearly to the pantry when the barest sound caught his ear. A gallop, a wheel's creak, and a splash were vague to his ears, but he heard them and held in a breath until his lungs quivered, snaking around the corner and to the round window of the kitchen. He pulled back the curtains Berilac had put up, peering out at the road in the dark, wet night, and slapped them back as though they had stung him.

He blinked against angry tears (or disappointed tears, he didn't know which) and fisted his hands. This is it, then, he deemed. I've lost. There's nothing more I can do. Good grace, there's nothing.

He turned and took a very slow step, almost as though his legs had frozen, and then ran off down the hall. The first pounds on the door followed, a shout of his name running out in the night, drawn from his father's tired and lost voice. He squinted his eyes, forced back the tears, and was nearly to Berilac's door when both bedroom doors opened, Berilac blinking tiredly in his half-asleep state, Pippin awake as could be, staring at Merry with sudden knowing eyes, a gaze Merry had hoped he wouldn't see for some time.

He paused and sighed, holding out his hand to Pippin. The Took gave a small, half-smile and held Merry's hand, and they walked back through the halls as Berilac followed to the door. By the time they reached the front passage the banging on the door had grown, voices being carried back and forth. With a last, almost bemused look at Pippin, the tears gone now, Merry reached out and turned the center doorknob, guiding it back. Saradoc, Paladin, and Esmeralda stood there, dressed in their warmer coats and looking exhausted. All six of them paused for just one singular moment before Saradoc began speaking as Paladin strode forward and took Pippin by the arm. Esmeralda pointed behind Merry and said something about packing, which Berilac took off back to his bedroom to do just that.

To Merry's ears, it sounded like a bunch of garble.

"What do you think—"

"You're in serious trouble!"

"You took advantage of our trust—"

"You all could have—"

"Get in the carriage—"

"Sneaking away and dishonoring—"

"You should know better—"

"We were worried—"

"—could be in—"

"—just as I thought—"

Pippin's eyes roved wildly between Paladin and Merry until it looked as though he was a cat watching a pendulum. Merry and Pippin couldn't hold on to each other any longer as Paladin pulled Pippin towards the carriage and Saradoc tugged Merry's shirt collar.

Berilac came back with minutes, holding his and Merry's packs, speeding up his feet with Esmerelda as they followed the two sons and their fathers.

"Do you think things will ever be all right, again, Aunt Esmerelda?"

She frowned but kept her gaze forward. "I think they will be, if I have any say in this."