They all belong to Tolkien. Even Freddy. Bless him. Please read and review.
"Oooph!" Merry looked behind him, to where Pippin lay face down in the dirt, spitting and muttering under his breath. Merry guessed he would not want to hear the words, at any rate. He bent and swatted at the younger hobbit's shoulder.
"Pippin!" He hissed, trying not to laugh at his cousin's pratfall. "Be quiet!" Pippin grumpily clambered to his feet and slapped at his trousers, brushing dust off of his knees. He moved closer to Merry, and together they crept nearer to the side of the hill. Ahead, Merry could see Sam crouched beneath the dining room window of Bag End, his hedge clippers in hand. His curly head was tilted, and Merry could fairly feel him listening. The sun beat down on the back of Merry's neck, pinking the skin, but he did not notice. He took a few more cautious steps toward Sam, glancing around and motioning for Pippin to stay where he was. He rested his hand against the sod-covered wall and knelt in the warm grass, peeping in one of the round, lead-paned windows of the hobbit hole. He could see Frodo inside at the rough-hewn kitchen table, chin in hand, listening intently to the wizard Gandalf. Merry shook his head slightly in wonder. It seemed as if every time Gandalf appeared, everything turned mysterious.
Merry glanced behind him, ensuring that Pippin was still hidden and not traipsing about the garden. When he looked back to the window, Gandalf had disappeared and Frodo was crouched by the table, a frightened look on his face. Before Merry could fathom what was happening, Gandalf's long arm suddenly shot out of the window under which Sam was lurking. The wizard seized Sam by the scruff of the neck and snatched him through the window, all in a fraction of a second. Merry suppressed a little squawk of surprise and scuttled backward away from the wall. He gestured wildly to Pippin, who bolted toward the garden gate, ducking behind shrubs along the way. Merry followed at a sprint, looking over his shoulder and expecting to see Gandalf racing after him, robes flying. But he reached the gate safely and vaulted over it to land in the road beside a panting Pippin.
"We're caught, Mer," gasped Pippin. "We're caught for sure! Sam'll peach to Gandalf, and he'll come after us! He'll toast us!" He looked fearfully back up the hill toward Bag End. Merry puffed for a moment, trying to catch his breath and slow his heart.
"Sam won't peach. He's a bit dim, but he's loyal." Merry paused and glanced back, only half believing his own statement. "Come on. We'd best get away from here, in case Gandalf decides to come have a look about outside." Merry grabbed Pippin by the coat sleeve and propelled him down the lane away from the Hill.
They walked in silence for a while, down the simple dirt packed road that led up the hill. Pippin thrust his hands in his pockets, whistling quietly, but he occasionally looked over his shoulder as though expecting to see Gandalf stalking them from the hedge. They stopped at the mill bridge and leaned on the stone rail. Pippin stooped to scoop up a fistful of rocks and set to throwing them into the water. He handed one to Merry and watched as his cousin skimmed it expertly, sending it skipping over the shimmering river. Pippin hurled a rock overhanded, bouncing it off the side of the mill and onto the waterwheel, which sent it careening into the grass. "What do you think old Gandalf will do to Sam?" he asked, pegging the mill with another stone.
"I don't know, Pippin. He's not spiteful or mean, but he can't be happy that Sam was eavesdropping. Somehow I doubt Sam will be very keen on helping us spy out Frodo after this." Merry set his mouth in a grim line. "What in the Shire could Frodo be up to? Why all the secrecy?"
"Well, whatever it is, it can't be good. Any time Gandalf is about there seems to be trouble. Maybe he's taking Frodo off on an adventure?" Pippin asked.
"That's what I'm afraid of. Frodo has been acting strangely since Bilbo left. I shouldn't be surprised if he tried to go off after the old boy."
"Not without us, he shan't!" declared Pippin, flinging a pebble into the water.
Merry snorted. "Well, that IS the point of our little spying trip, isn't it? Do try to pay attention, Pippin." Offended, Pippin took a swing at Merry, who dodged and tackled his cousin, laughing. Merry pinned Pippin and sat on his back, ignoring his cousin's continued struggles, and contemplating whether to throw him in the river. But soon he spotted Sam tearing up the lane. "Sam!" he shouted, releasing Pippin and waving his arms. Sam skidded to a halt, his face white. Merry trotted over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right? What happened?"
Sam shook his head wordlessly. Merry grasped him by the elbow and led him off the bridge. Sam's eyes were cloudy with tears, and he snuffled every once in a while, "Poor Mister Frodo." A knot of cold anxiety twisted Merry's stomach. He stopped at the Golden Perch, rapping on the window. The barkeep, Sancho Chubb, appeared at the door, shading his eyes against the setting sun.
"I'm sorry, Mister Brandybuck, but we're closed right now. You know that," said Sancho.
"I know, Mister Chubb, but I have Sam Gamgee with me, and he's not feeling well. He's had a bit of a shock. May we come and sit in the cool for a while, perhaps have a drink to calm his nerves?" Merry smiled charmingly and gestured toward Sam, who stood silent and pale. Sancho considered a moment, looked about quickly, then set his mouth and gestured them in. The cool darkness of the pub embraced them, a welcome relief from the summer's heat. Merry led Sam to a table in the back of the room and sent Pippin to retrieve a pint of ale. He took one of Sam's rough, calloused hands in his own.
"What happened Sam?" he asked in a low voice. "What did you hear?"
Sam dashed his arm against his eyes and took a deep quivering breath. "He's going away, Mister Merry. He's really going to do it."
Merry's heart fell. "Did he say where? And why?"
"It's not just on holiday, neither. Gandalf says that one of the treasures that Mister Bilbo brought back from his adventure is very dangerous, and that Mister Frodo must take it out of the Shire. He says that trouble is on its way to Hobbiton, and the sooner Frodo skins out the better." Sam accepted a mug of beer from Pippin, who had pilfered another for himself, and took a deep draught. Merry stared thoughtfully at the table, chewing his lip.
"It's Bilbo's gold ring, isn't it. The magic ring," he said quietly. Sam nodded mournfully, concentrating hard on his drink.
"How do you know that, Mer?" asked Pippin.
"What else could it be? What could be more valuable? I know enough of Bilbo and have read enough of his book to know about his ring. But why is it so dangerous?" Merry pondered.
And so Sam shared the entire tale of the One Ring with them, punctuated by questions from Merry and commentary from Pippin. "...and Mister Gandalf has ordered me to go along, to pay me out for spying," Sam finished ruefully.
"But that's good news!" exclaimed Merry. Pippin looked over, confused, a little mustache of ale glistening on his upper lip. "Now there's no way Frodo can slip away unnoticed. There's no way for him to sneak off without us."
"But what about the danger? Even Mister Gandalf was afraid of the ring, he wouldn't even touch it. He said that all sort of evil things would be after it. I'm very frightened about going off by ourselves, even with the thought of meeting the elves," protested Sam.
Merry shook his head forcefully. "We'll have to go with him. He'd never make it all the way to Rivendell without getting caught if he were all alone, with no scouts or extra pairs of eyes. And, pardon me for saying so, Sam, but I don't think even you could keep him safe all by yourself."
"Why would Frodo leave at all?" All three hobbits jumped and turned to see Fredegar Bolger leaning against the bar, rubbing a mug with a cloth. "Why can't he just give Old Gandalf that ring?" Merry stood quickly, sending his chair crashing to the floor.
"Fatty, why are you lurking around here listening to our private conversation?" he snapped, advancing on Fredegar. "What did you hear?"
"Nuh...nothing," stammered the frightened hobbit. "Just that Frodo is in trouble, because of Bilbo's treasure." Merry stared at him reproachfully. "Well, how is a hobbit to keep from being curious, with you sitting in the dark whispering amongst yourselves?" Fatty protested. He had always been a bit frightened by Merry, and Merry well knew it. He pushed his finger into Fatty's face.
"If you dare tell anyone what we've said, we'll pay you out for it. This is no game, and Frodo could be in real danger." Fatty shook his head violently, backing away from Merry.
"I won't say anything, I won't," he blubbered, wringing the dishcloth in his hands. "I'll do anything, just don't..."
Merry shook his head, bemused. "Pull yourself together, Fatty, I'm not going to do anything to you. As a matter of fact, we could probably use your help, if you'll swear to silence." Fatty's chin puckered and he looked near tears.
"I won't say anything if it would mean trouble for Frodo. I'd hate to see anything happen to him, especially after all of his Uncle Bilbo's antics. It's as if that wizard Gandalf has put a spell on those Bagginses," he said, snuffling and wiping a forearm across his nose. "But both Frodo and Bilbo have always been kind to me and to my family, and it's a shame about all this trouble." Fatty stood silent for a moment, his round face conflicted. But then he spoke. "What do you need me to do?"
"Oh how, oh how did I let you talk me into this!" wailed Fatty, tripping over a thick root and nearly plowing face first into a tree trunk. Merry gestured violently at him to be quiet, and crept closer to the edge of the field. He looked around carefully, then set to filling a sack with carrots. He kept a sharp ear out for Farmer Maggot's dogs, and an eye on Fatty, whom he suspected might bolt at any moment. Pippin was just over the rise, pilfering from the farmer's apple trees.
"I need your strong back to help carry all this, that's why," Merry whispered over his shoulder. "We'll likely need as many provisions as we can carry on the way to Rivendell. Besides, having you along while we raid Farmer Maggot's crop is a sure way to keep you from prattling this whole tale to all of Hobbiton." He tossed a full sack of carrots to Fatty, who shouldered it with a whimper. Merry unfurled another burlap bag, but before he could begin perusing for useful items to fill it with, Pippin appeared over the ridge, waving his arms wildly and pointing toward the vicinity of the farm house.
In the distance, Merry could hear the barking of dogs, and they were closing fast. "Leg it!" he hissed at Fatty, heaving another sack of pilfered vegetables over his back and pelting toward the road. He slid down the embankment into the road and tossed his bag into the pony cart, and motioned frantically for Fatty to do the same. As Fatty struggled to climb into the cart, Pippin made a flying leap over the hedge into the lane.
"They're right behind me!" he gasped, jumping into the cart and grabbing the reins. He swatted them across the pony's flanks, and the pony bolted. Merry only managed to snag the rear of the cart and scramble aboard. The cart rattled down the lane, heading full tilt toward Hobbiton. Pippin was standing at the front, laughing maniacally with relief at their escape. Merry collapsed to the wooden boards, his chest heaving with labored breath. Fatty was clinging to the side of the cart, near tears, watching the hedge with fear. The baying of Farmer Maggot's dogs was fading into the distance, and the quieter they became, the better Merry felt. He rolled onto his side, resting his cheek on the rumbling boards of the cart floor, and shut his eyes.
Merry woke to the warmth of the afternoon sun bathing his toes. He stretched luxuriantly, noting with a sense of detachment that the icy pins and needles in his arm had dulled, but his fingers still felt thick and difficult to move. His dream lingered near the surface of his consciousness, Fredegar's face seeming burned in the backs of his eyes. He frowned, his heart growing heavy at the thought of his friend. They had been gone for so long, and not given a thought to Freddy, to the danger in which they had left him. He remembered with sadness the look on the young hobbit's face when he realized that they were serious about leaving the Shire. In that moment Freddy understood it was likely that peril would come to the Shire, and that he would be there in Frodo's place. Realization dawned with a burning pressure in Merry's eyes that some heroes had not come on the journey. Some heroes had stayed behind.