Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: Fellowship (#2297)
Author: LucyHale
Chapters: 3

Warning: Undefined variable $retval in /home/httpd/vhosts/openscrolls.net/httpdocs/fanfic/download.php on line 105

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Alternate Universe (AU)
Description: A retelling of Fellowship of the Ring. How does a shift in Ringbearers change the fates of all involved?
Published: 11 Oct 2005
Updated: 12 Oct 2005
Warnings:
Type: Drama
Characters: Merry; Frodo


Chapter 1 - Plans Gone Awry

Title: Fellowship

Author: Lucy Hale

Summary: A retelling of Lord of the Rings, book by book. This is obviously then the first of three stories.

Author’s Note: For various reasons this story will contain both book and movie canon. The pace of the movie is followed more or less, but there will be facts and situations and scenes from the book here that were not included in the movie. For that reason I credit both JRR Tolkien and Peter Jackson for the basis of this story, and will state now that these characters are not mine, and I don’t profit from this, et cetera.

---


The fire danced in the fireplace, casting its warm orange glow around the small rounded walls of the room that had gotten so much colder in the last few minutes. The crackle of the wood and flame was the only sound for a long, tense moment.

Gandalf the wizard took that moment to wonder if he would have to use force against one of his old and good friends.

"The ring must go to Frodo." Bilbo spoke abruptly, sounding defeated.

And the moment was over. Gandalf hid his relief at the acquiescence, simply nodding solemnly. He watched Bilbo make his slow way to the mantle over the fireplace, where the ring was supposed to have been placed already. The hobbit’s feet dragged as he walked in most unhobbitlike fashion – the weight of the ring, of the sacrifice. The sight of it having a physical as well as mental impact on Bilbo sent Galdalf’s relief away again, to be replaced by fresh concern.

Bilbo stood for a long moment with his back to the wizard. He held the ring in his hand, and looked to be taking one last, long look at his prized possession for over fifty years.

"In an envelope, like you said?" His voice was oddly hushed.

"It is safer that way," Gandalf agreed. "Out of sight means out of mind, as the saying goes."

Bilbo reached for the envelope he had already addressed, lying empty but patient on the mantle. He held it, and did not move.

"Bilbo," Gandalf's voice always sounded loud in the confines of the small space, but in this hushed moment it seemed to echo.

"Yes, yes." Bilbo sighed but started moving again. His hand, just out of Gandalf's sight, let the envelope rest back on the mantle. The ring was no longer in his hand.

Gandalf released a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding.

Bilbo turned suddenly, and a new determination washed over him, shaking away the fog that had seemed to overtake him. "And now I should be off, before those confounded curious hobbits make their way here. Will you see me to the door, Gandalf?"

Gandalf smiled at his old friend. "Of course." His eyes flitted to the ring, the envelope, more than once. Seeing it there still and waiting made his smile more sincere.

Bilbo grabbed his favorite walking stick, old and warped with usage, and went to his door. His walk was much more determined now that the weight of the ring was off of his shoulders.

He stopped suddenly in the path outside his front door. He turned back to Gandalf with a sudden smile on his face. "I've thought up an ending to my book," he stated, looking pleased. "'And he lived happily ever after, to the end of his days.'"

Resilient, ridiculous hobbits. Gandalf went to him, crouching. "And so I'm sure you shall."

Bilbo smiled as Gandalf rested a hand on his shoulder. "Goodbye, Gandalf."

"Farewell, my dear Bilbo." Gandalf shook his head in sudden amusement as memories welled up inside of him. This same hobbit, more than fifty years ago. How he had sat outside this very door when Gandalf met him for almost the first time. Lazing away his day and blowing smoke rings. A practical hobbit with no sense of adventure.

Times had changed.

Gandalf squeezed Bilbo's arm and let him go.

Bilbo started merrily down the trail, singing a low song to himself that Gandalf knew well.

The road goes ever on and on…

And so it would. Bilbo’s road still held an adventure or two for him. But his days of carrying that tokan of his first adventure were over, and so Gandalf could, for the first time in fifty years, relax and let the hobbit go where he would unwatched.

Gandalf had always much admired hobbits for their carefree spirits. At the moment he almost envied Bilbo for his lack of knowledge about the dark things of the world. The grander races of Middle Earth, those who knew of the existence of hobbits, sometimes mocked his interest in the little race. Gandalf didn’t argue. Let people think he came for the pipe weed alone. The less of them that knew the true peace and uncomplicated nature of this land, the less of them that would come to disturb it. Even his intrusion, as rare as it was, brought complications upon these little hobbits.

"Until we meet again," he spoke softly to the departing hobbit.

***

"Bilbo?"

Gandalf peered into the fire burning in the small fireplace. He noted the opening of the door and the presence of young Frodo Baggins. Noted it, but was too deep in his own thoughts to pay attention.

Though Frodo was no doubt going to stay until Gandalf offered some hint about the prank Bilbo had played in front of practically the whole of the Shire.

"He's gone, isn't he?" Frodo's footsteps brought him further into the room, until he was right behind the wizard. "He spoke so often about leaving. Somehow I never thought he'd actually do it."

Gandalf pulled himself out of his dark thoughts of this mysterious ring of power. It disturbed him not to know the full extent of the power the ring held. That Bilbo had had to be frightened into giving the thing up was odd enough to be troubling. And something in the words Bilbo had spoken that night still bothered Gandalf.

But at last he turned to Frodo and smiled as comfortingly as a grim old man could smile. "He's gone to stay with the elves. He's left you Bag End, along with all of his possessions."

The news did not bring much comfort into the troubled face of the hobbit who had just lost the last member of his family. "I don't understand why he felt he had to leave."

Here it came, then. Gandalf studied the hobbit. In a way Frodo was almost the opposite of Bilbo – even the respectable Bilbo Gandalf had first met. He was serious, for a hobbit. Quick to thoughtful silence, while most of his kind would just as soon drink and laugh away any uncertainties. He would relax at times – with Bilbo, or the two rather ridiculous kinsmen who most often came to call, Merry and Pippin. Still, he was a better choice than Bilbo to hold this ring. His solemnity would dispose him to listen to Gandalf’s words more closely, and perhaps he could be made to leave this ring alone and unused until Gandalf could find out more information.

Gandalf nodded over his head at the mantle. "There's an extra little present for you that I feel we should talk about." His voice was as casual as it ever was. The key to this would lie in not stressing its importance.

Frodo moved around him and found the envelope. "In here?"

Gandalf nodded.

Frodo tugged the envelope open. He peered into it, then turned a furrowed brow to Gandalf. "I don’t understand."

Sharp alarm and suspicion instantly filled Gandalf's mind. He stood, reaching for the envelope. "Is there nothing inside?"

"No, nothing." Frodo held it out.

Confound that hobbit! Gandalf had thought Bilbo to be free of deception, at least against him.

He went to the door quickly and grabbed his hat and cloak from where they hung on hooks. "At least he can't have gotten far," he muttered to himself.

"You're going after Bilbo?" Frodo followed Gandalf out the door and down the path to the road.

Gandalf paid him no mind. Perhaps it was better Frodo witness this, so that the younger hobbit could begin to appreciate the influence of a ring of power over even his own favorite uncle. Perhaps stressing the seriousness of this matter was what was needed after all.

Before they could get far, they heard voices coming towards them from further down the path. Light, happy hobbit voices, and familiar. Moments later the source of those voices came into view in the form of two young hobbits.

“It’s Gandalf! And cousin Frodo!”

“Careful, Merry, he looks as though he’s got some scold left in him.”

Gandalf frowned at them. Meriadoc and Peregrin; two hobbits he had known in his comings and goings since they were born, though of course not as well as Bilbo or young Frodo. The two kinsmen of whom he had recently been thinking, ridiculous and thoughtless the both of them. They were a distraction he could not afford.

Unfortunately, they weren’t inclined to let their cousin go so silently.

“Why, Frodo! Imagine running into you here! We were on our way to Bag End.”

“If you’re looking for Bilbo he’s already left,” Frodo answered from behind Gandalf.

Gandalf kept moving, striding past the two hobbits. “We have no time for mischief. Get out of our way at once.”

Pippin Took ignored the wizard’s urgency, even sniffled as if offended by it. “Well. At least there’s one Baggins who knows how to treat others with respect.”

At his side, his inseperable other half laughed. “If respect is what you would call that odd meeting. It was kind of Bilbo to let us in on the joke, though.”

Gandalf turned instantly, retracing his steps to where the hobbits stood. He glowered down at them. “You’ve seen Bilbo since his party?”

Merry looked up at him with wide eyes, obviously surprised at the sudden attention. “On this road, bare minutes ago.”

Pippin nodded. “He was nice enough to let us know he hadn’t vanished for good, though he wouldn’t say more than that. Other than some strange comment about knowing what’s best for his own things. And he left in such a hurry he ran into poor Merry near hard enough to knock him over.”

Gandalf straightened and glared out at the path in front of him. “He knows best, does he?”

Merry’s eyes went to Frodo. “Now cousin. If there’s mischief in the air you know well enough we want to be a help in it. But just the same if there’s trouble I hope you know we could be a help in that as well.”

“I do know.” Frodo smiled. “If this were my trouble I would share it with you, but I have no idea what’s going on, to be honest.”

Gandalf moved away, irritated at the chatter and eager to catch up to Bilbo.

Hobbits moved very quietly nearly all the time, but Gandalf could hear the soft patter of footsteps behind him.

“What’s Bilbo done?” Pippin’s voice asked behind Gandalf.

“I’m not sure,” Frodo answered. He was already huffing for breath after following Gandalf’s long-legged, fast strides. “He’s left, but that was no unexpected thing. He and Gandalf have spoken of it before. From what I can gather Bilbo was supposed to have left me something behind, but changed his mind. You know how Bilbo is.”

Pippin laughed. “He knows what’s best for his own things. That remark makes more sense now.”

“That’s quite enough, Frodo.” Gandalf didn’t look back, but put his trust in Frodo to read his tone of voice and realize that this talk could do harm.

There was silence behind him for a moment.

“Frodo?” Merry’s voice was a bit quieter, in deference to the wizard, but more curious than anything. “Do you suppose it has something to do with this ring?”

Gandalf turned so sharply he nearly lost his balance. “Ring?”

Pippin and Frodo were looking to Merry’s closed fist in interest.

“Ring? When did he give you a ring?”

“When he ran into me as he was leaving. I could feel him slip it into my pocket.” And with those words, Merry stretched out his hand and opened his fingers, revealing the deep shine of a golden ring.

Gandalf, for one of the first times in his very long life, was struck dumb.


Chapter 2 - Merry?

There were, Gandalf decided on his way to escorting the three hobbits and their new acquisition back to Bag End, a number of things to be concerned about here. The only question was where to start.

In all his and Bilbo’s talks about this night and the hobbit’s departure, they had spoken of the ring often. Indeed, Gandalf drove the talks to that purpose more and more as a shadow grew in his mind over the ring. Bilbo had said himself, and Gandalf had agreed, that Frodo was the most trustworthy, responsible hobbit that would ever be found, and his closeness to Bilbo made him the only choice to be left the ring.

The decision to leave the ring had been difficult, but the decision to leave it to Frodo had been amazingly easy.

And now, this strange turn of events. For Bilbo to fight Gandalf’s influence, even trick the wizard into believing the ring was left behind, safe, and then for him to give it to the very next hobbit he bumped into on his way out of the Shire…mysterious. Gandalf did not love mystery.

Despite Bilbo’s reputation as an adventurous and Tookish sort of hobbit, he was neither silly nor irresponsible. He had no way of knowing the importance of the ring, true, but through Gandalf he at least knew that it was important.

There was simply no reason not to go through with the plan as agreed upon.

Unless, after so many years, the ring had begun to influence his mind somehow. Or perhaps Bilbo simply didn’t wish to put the burden of it on his beloved nephew. Still, there was no reason to give it away to the next available hobbit, out of the blue.

Gandalf thought about it as he ushered the now quiet, confused hobbits into Bag End.

“Gandalf?” Frodo spoke up only once the door was safely shut.

Gandalf held up a hand to silence him. “I will think.”

Frodo nodded and stayed quiet, sending his gaze to his two companions to insure they also remained silent.

Gandalf cast them from his mind, moving slowly to the fireplace as his thoughts whirled around themselves. Perhaps there were clues to be found in the hole itself. Bilbo was a diariest, perhaps in his manuscript there would be clues to be found. The best idea, of course, would be to go find the hobbit and drag him back, willing or no, to talk it out with them.

But Gandalf felt sure that the moment the ring left Bilbo’s possession, Bilbo’s involvement in it had to be ended entirely. To bring him back was risking even less certainty, as well as risking Bilbo deciding again that the ring was rightfully his own.

Hobbits being what they were – and two of these three hobbits in particular – the silence didn’t last very long.

Peregrin Took lowered his voice to a near-whisper, but that was all the deference that could be gotten from him. “Bilbo’s left presents for everyone.”

“Of course.” Frodo did whisper his reply, glancing at Gandalf. “He doesn’t mean to come back, you know. I think it was part of his joke to leave certain things behind, to let certain hobbits know the truth of what he thought of them in the end.”

Gandalf glanced over at the presents absently. A pile sitting upon and beside his small table, crudely labeled. His eyes spotted a couple of envelopes discarded on the floor near to the pile.

They were the same as the envelope left on the mantle. And there were no other ones to be seen in that pile. Gandalf frowned and moved to look at them. He lifted one, and his frown grew sharper.

Mariadoc’s name was on it. It had been written in as firm a script as Bilbo’s slanting hand could manage. But it had a line written through it, and Frodo’s name, less certain, was added underneath.

He picked up the other envelope and saw the same thing. Merry’s name was written there, but after some consideration it was crossed out, and Frodo’s name was hesitant beneath it. As if forced through unwilling fingers.

What was this? What did it mean? If Gandalf had to guess from just the envelope, it appeared that Frodo was Bilbo’s second choice to inherit the ring.

But that was absurd. Bilbo had never mentioned any other hobbit. He had never shown the slightest hesitation in gifting it to Frodo. Merry’s name had never been so much as spoken between the two, save in recounting some silly story or another.

Something had driven him to write Merry’s name on that envelope. Something strong enough to make him write it twice at least, and finally strong enough to make Bilbo refuse to leave it where he knew Frodo would get it.

Gandalf dropped the envelopes back to the floor and turned towards the fire. There was a question that had to be asked, though the answer was impossible to discover – was the force driving this decision a force of good, or a force of darkness?

Was it a whim of the ring itself? Should Gandalf’s darkest predictions about this ring turn to truth, it would be more than able to decide its own fate. In Frodo’s hands the ring would find safety. In Merry’s irresponsible grasp the ring would be lost. A dark motivation, that, and if it were the case there was nothing to be done but take the ring from Merry and give it to its rightful holder.

But there was a chance that the compulsion was a good one. From the same source, perhaps, that had led Bilbo to stumble upon it in the first place. Gandalf had always known that it was no blind luck that drove the finding of the ring. He was meant to have it by a greater power than his own luck.

If that same power ruled now, then Merry was meant to have this ring, and Gandalf could by no means take it from him.

A difficult choice lay ahead, all the more difficult because of his uncertainty about the powers this ring contained. He would have to learn more before he decided. But to learn he would have to leave, and the ring would have to stay with one or the other of them.

Gandalf the Grey sat for a good long time, watching the fire and sighing to himself. Even after he made up his mind, he didn’t relax. He had to impress upon his quiet companions how serious this matter was.

He turned from the fire and peered at the three in turn.

Pip and Merry leaned against the wall of the hole, looking for the most part bored. But Frodo sat up at once from the seat he had taken at the table. “You’re ready?”

Gandalf nodded gravely.

“Ready for what, that’s my question.”

Gandalf sent a dark gaze to Pippin instantly. “I am ready, first and foremost, to send you on your way, Peregrin Took. I will speak to these two alone. This matter does not concern you.”

Pip gaped at him.

Merry stood up off the wall. “You don’t know us as well as Bilbo and cousin Frodo, Gandalf, but surely you know that what involves me involves Pip just as much.”

Pip nodded, bolstered by the support. “And anyway, this matter isn’t private as it is. If I have to go you’ve also got to tell Sam to stop lurking outside the window.”

Gandalf’s brow furrowed even as a rustle was heard in the shrubs outside the window nearest Frodo. He strode to the window instantly, glaring out at the darkness. “Samwise Gamgee, are you eavesdropping?”

There was an indecisive pause, and then a curly-topped head popped into sight at the window. “Pardon me, Master Gandalf, sir. I was concerned with the stage of the hedges near the window here, if you understand me, and I weren’t going to sleep a wink until I’d checked it out for myself.”

Gandalf sent a gaze to Frodo.

Frodo, obviously fighting back a smile, shrugged in quiet surrender.

Gandalf sighed. Hobbits were endearing in their loyalties to each other, and it usually did his heart good to see it. But this was leading to four different hobbits learning the edges of a secret that should have been held in the mind of just one, just the one who was left the ring. Their safety hinged on nobody knowing.

Yet Sam Gamgee would be harder to get rid of then Pippin. Gandalf spoke gravely. “You may as well bring yourself inside, Samwise.”

“If you say so, Master Gandalf.” Same was gone from the window instantly, and walking through the door a moment later. He instantly took a place by Frodo’s side, glancing at his master with a sheepish look on his face.

Gandalf peered seriously at the four hobbits.

He had a great deal of respect for the race of hobbits, as silly and carefree as they were. There was a strength in those little bodies. In their own ways they were as strong as any dwarf, as brave as any man, and as cunning as any elf. It was their nature to laze about eating as many meals as possible, drinking great quantities of ale, smoking pipeweed until the air was grey and their brains were dulled. But Gandalf’s adventures had shown him that each one of the ridiculous creatures had it in them to be truly great.

Bilbo in his time had lived up to his potential. Frodo, Gandalf was certain, would do the same. These other three…

He was less certain. Samwise Gamgee had been in Gandalf’s mind a fitting choice to protect Frodo and the ring. He was loyal to a fault, simple in his thoughts and susceptible to Gandalf’s threats of the dangers involved. He would protect Frodo against any danger, Gandalf knew.

But confound these other two. Gandalf might have loved the fun and laughter hobbits indulged in as often as possible, but he loved it because he knew it could be tempered with strength and wisdom. In Bilbo he saw it, in Frodo. In Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck there had been no such proof given him.

He had been fond of the two from his early days after Bilbo’s adventures, visiting the Shire and looking on as Bilbo took up adoption of his orphaned nephew. Gandalf had been fond of Frodo, and there had been a time when none could make the child laugh and smile as a child ought but his two foolish cousins from Buckland and Tuckborough.

Meriadoc had spent a great deal of time after he was born toddling after Frodo in adoration, and his worship had dulled into friendship just as Pippin had arrived to toddle after Merry in the same way. They had spent many hours with Frodo, lightening his spirits. They would be loyal to Frodo, even if they weren’t capable of anything deeper than that.

Perhaps they might have watched over Frodo along with Sam.

But for one of them to be the one who actually bore the burden of this ring?

In the silence of his thoughts the hobbits grew restless. It was Pippin who dared to speak. “You said you’d made up your mind, then? About something or another?”

“I did not say that, Peregrin Took.” Gandalf looked at the four hobbits sternly. “I have had my mind made up for me, it seems. But I may now be ready to go along with this mad turn of events until I can learn more.” He nodded to himself. He would go to Minas Tirith, as soon as he could fly across the land, and he would root out the history of this ring and find out why it held such great sway over those it came in contact with.

Until then… “Peregrin. Samwise. Neither of you will speak a word of anything you have seen or heard tonight to anyone. Not if you value the lives of Frodo and Merry.”

“Well. I don’t quite like the way that sounds,” Merry answered after a moment of surprised silence.

“I don’t doubt it,” Gandalf replied. “But the situation is no less grave than I’m making it seem. Now, as this entire matter is not clear to me, I will not waste time bothering to try and explain it to all of you. Pippin. Sam. You will leave us.”

Pippin at once opened his mouth to protest. “But-”

Gandalf cut him off sharply. “You are, whether you realize it or not, in possession of more terrible knowledge than you can know. You will not be forgotten about nor left to wonder. But for now you must go. I have no more to tell you.”

Sam didn’t argue, but he didn’t obey. Instead he turned to Frodo.

Frodo nodded. “Go on, Sam. Go and get some rest. I have a feeling that there will be more than enough for you to help with before this is over. And you, Pip.”

But as Sam had waited for Frodo to instruct him, so Pippin waited for Merry.

Merry met his eyes and shrugged. “I suppose you’d better. It can’t be wise to make Gandalf angry twice in one night, can it?”

Merry’s light tone seemed to calm his cousin. Pip nodded and smiled again. “Right, then. Good night, all of you. I expect we’ll see each other tomorrow. Come on, Sam.”

When the two were gone and the door was closed, Gandalf went to the window and shut it before returning to the door to collect his staff and hat. “And now I must be gone myself. But I have some words for you both before I leave.”

“Leave?” Frodo moved to Gandalf in unhappy surprise. “But you’ve only just arrived!”

“There are questions than need answering. Indeed, that must be answered and soon. More is going on here than I have explanation for.”

Left at the table, Merry picked up one of those envelopes Gandalf had spent so much time examining. He frowned at the sight of the two names. “I don’t understand this great fuss at all. If you want Frodo to have the silly ring, I’ll simply give it to him. It’s not much use to me, I suppose, though it’s pretty and helpful enough.”

Gandalf had a moment of weakness, a moment where he wanted nothing more than to agree, watch the ring handed over, and leave with that much less to trouble him. He looked at Merry for a moment, then moved his gaze to Frodo. “He was compelled to one, though we wanted the other,” he murmured to himself.

“What was that?”

He ignored Merry. “For better or worse, it is done. Until I learn more, let it remain. You will hold on to it until I return, Meriadoc

Merry shrugged. “If you wish.” His hand found the pocket he had put the ring into and patted absently.

“For better or worse,” he said again. “This matter is wrapped around you both. I don’t know to what end, but for the moment we must go along with the mad whims of fate, and of Bilbo. The ring was meant for Frodo, and all will believe it is Frodo that has it. That is an illusion I wish to maintain, for the present. How difficult would it be for you both to spent the days until my return together?”

Merry shrugged. “I can take on here until you come back. It’s no great matter. I can be seen to be comforting poor Frodo in the wake of his mad uncle’s great joke.” He grinned suddenly. “No one would find fault in that story, though they’d probably pity Frodo that much more.”

Frodo chuckled faintly.

Gandalf nodded his approval. “Then from now until my return the two of you must be as brothers. If we are confused as to whom the ring truly belongs to, at least we can be comforted knowing that any dark forces who may want the ring will be confused as well.”

“Dark forces?” Merry straightened. “Right. That’s it. What in the world is going on here? Isn’t there some short answer you can give before you rush off to find whatever you’re looking for?”

Gandalf was almost impatient enough to ignore the question and leave. Still, Merry was the bearer of this ring for now, for good or evil. He couldn’t be dismissed. And it would help Gandalf’s peace of mind to know that Merry understood the danger.

He took a seat again, keeping his hat in hand for a quick departure when he was done. “The ring of Bilbo’s is a ring of power, Meriadoc.”

“Well, yes.” Merry answered with no surprise. “But worrying about dark forces and arranging for me to stay at Bag End? What can one have to do with the other, if no one knows about it?”

Gandalf peered at the hobbit, struck with surprise. He who was not often surprised by anything had had two chances to be struck dumb by this silly hobbit. Perhaps it meant something. Pretty, he remembered suddenly. That’s what Merry had called the ring. Pretty and…

...and helpful.

Frodo spoke first. “You know about the ring?”

Merry shrugged. “Yes. I mean, I know something about it. I know it was the source of Bilbo’s disappearance at the party tonight, and that it’s helped him in similar ways before.”

“How? How could you possibly know that?” Frodo looked amazed. “Bilbo tried so hard to keep what it could do from common knowledge.”

“And of course he didn’t simply tell me,” Merry confirmed. “It wasn’t any choice of his at all that I should know. It was all an accident. A meeting on a country road, or a near-meeting I should say, between your uncle and the Sackville-Bagginses. I was on that road, though Bilbo must have been unaware of me behind him. He was distracted as he usually is. And when he saw the SBs approach he pulled this ring out of his shirt pocket and slipped it on his finger. You can imagine my surprise when he up and vanished.”

Frodo shook his head in amazement. “And you never said anything about it? Not to me or Bilbo?”

Merry’s head lifted with some small amount of pride. “I did not. I may not be the most scholarly hobbit in the Shire, but I know enough to understand that what happened with that ring was magical, and not a thing to be talked about. Especially when I had no idea what I could have said. Besides, Bilbo had helped me and Pip out of scraps before due to our pranks.” He smiled. “I thought it only polite to leave quiet a ring that helped him get himself out of places he didn’t want to be. I never even told Pippin, though it was hard. This is the first time I’ve spoken of it aloud. Though not the first time since that I’ve thought about it.”

Gandalf shook his head, brought to voice finally. “Meriadoc, I am both surprised and gratified to hear this. It shows you’re not quite as reckless as I feared.”

Merry grinned and waved that away. “Of course I am. But Bilbo’s told us enough tales of dark magic for me to be frightened.” He looked down at his pocket where the ring lie. “Now it seems I was right to fear. This thing is mine now, so you say, and already there’s talk of dark forces. It’s almost enough to have me wish Pip and I had never been on that road and never met Bilbo.”

“Don’t wish that,” Gandalf replied instantly. “Perhaps a different resolution to this night might have been better for all, but for Bilbo to have gotten away with the ring in his possession would have been the worst possible ending.” He frowned thoughtfully. “It is your name on those envelopes, Merry, and perhaps fate put you on that road and in his path.”

“Well, I still don’t quite understand it. Fate and all that is well enough, but Bilbo had the ring for all these years and there was no talk of dark forces then, was there? A ring that lets a person vanish may be magic, and some help to an enemy, but would dark forces really come here and harm us for it? And why now, if not years ago?”

Gandalf nodded to himself. They were thoughtful enough questions to ease his mind about Merry. “The only known magic it contains might be a simple trick of the eye, but magic rings are never to be taken as trifles. There are rings in this world that hold a far greater power and a far darker evil than your hobbit mind could begin to understand. Never doubt that that little ring is the most dangerous, and most valuable, thing in the whole of the Shire.”

He stood up at that, the impatience creeping back over him. “I must go now. I must get answers about this thing before I can instruct you further. Until I return…”

Frodo nodded dutifully. “We will be as brothers. Merry will come to stay here, and I will even go to Buckland with him to collect his things. I doubt anyone there would question the arrival of a mad Baggins, just as no one in Hobbiton will doubt the mad whims of his Bucklander cousin.” He exchanged a smile with Merry. “If anyone does question, I’ll say that I was unable to handle the affairs of my new inheritence on my own and wished for help.”

Gandalf nodded his approval. “As far as anyone needs know, Bilbo left you everything of his own. Anyone who might know about the ring will assume it is with you or gone traveling with Bilbo. No one should learn any different. You must make sure that Peregrin Took and Samwise will stay silent.”

He turned to Merry next, his eyes driving deep into the young hobbit. “You have no idea the responsibility that now sits on your shoulders. I myself don’t know the entirety of the matter, and for that I feel sorry. But these things I can tell you – keep the ring secret. Guard it better than Bilbo did. Guard it as well as you guarded your knowledge of it for so long. Show it to no one. Not to Pippin, not even to Frodo. If there is a safe enough place, put it away and tell no one where it is.”

Merry frowned but nodded, hand covering his pocket.

“Most important of all, Meriadoc.” Gandalf was grimly serious. “Never put it on. Until we know what it is capable of, we dare not risk it. Your mind loves mischief, but this is far worse than stealing fireworks or taking crops from hapless farmers. This is danger, simple and great. With the ring supposedly with a Baggins, perhaps the life you would risk with your indiscretion would be Frodo’s.”

Merry looked to Frodo and nodded again, his face rather pale.

“I will return as fast as I can,” Gandalf finished, satisfied. “Remember. Keep it secret, and keep it safe.” He met their eyes, each in turn. Frodo’s wide blue eyes, grave with knowledge and worry. Merry’s grey eyes, confused but worried, though still with the lightness of heart shimmering within.

They both seemed to understand, and so he was a little more at ease when he nodded his goodbyes and strode to the door of the hole.

He could only hope to return and find these two hobbits and their new possession in much the same way he’d left them.

-

The door shut, and Gandalf was gone.

There was silence for a moment. Frodo’s heart felt heavy with the urgency of Gandalf’s leaving. He was confused, but he knew enough of lore and Gandalf’s ways to know that this was shockingly serious. He felt, oddly enough, as if he was suddenly a character in one of those tales. A hapless character who wanders in and out without leaving an impact, yet still is contained in some great story.

He nearly smiled at the thought. “I think,” he said suddenly, “that this birthday will stay in my memory for quite a while.”

Merry laughed, turning to his cousin and clapping Frodo on the arm. “You’ve got the best birthday present of all, though. You get to have me as a houseguest. Luckiest hobbit in the whole Shire you are.”

Frodo returned the smile, his darker fears diminishing in the face of his cousin’s ease. Merry as well as Pippin had always had the most contagious sort of optimism. “Bilbo would be most pleased to know the full scale of trouble he’s caused.”

“Doubtlessly.” Merry grinned. “Someday you’ll tell him, I think. But for now…” He turned back towards the hall leading to the guest rooms. “Now to make myself quite at home.”

Frodo followed him with a chuckle. “When do you not?”


Chapter 3 - A Journey Set in Motion

Gandalf was gone far longer than either hobbit expected, and they found it easy to get lost in the goings on of the Shire and forget about the odd night of Bilbo’s party and Gandalf’s warnings.

Frodo asked Merry a few days after the wizard had left, curious despite himself and fearing little in the quiet peace of his own hole, “Did you find a safe place for it?”

Merry looked up form his slow and careful penning of his first letter back to his, to hear her talk, poor and utterly abandoned mother back in Buckland. He nodded without having to ask what Frodo meant. “As safe as anywhere I could think of.”

And Frodo left it alone. He was curious, of course, mostly for the fact that whatever this ring was to grand wizards and dark lords, it was to have been part of his inheritance from Bilbo. He wasn’t sure if he begrudged Merry the thing – what use was a ring that had to be hidden, anyway? Still, he longed at times to see Bilbo again and ask about it.

The spring melted into summer, but the talk of Bilbo’s party and the arrival of a Brandybuck in Hobbiton had not died down. Pippin was spending most of his days with his favourite cousin, and so two of Bag End’s many bedrooms were full almost every night. Frodo found he liked having them around. Bilbo had been more than enough when he was there, enough company for a young hobbit, enough of a mentor for a curious lad. But he was gone, and silences were odd. Had Merry and Pippin not been there, Frodo could imagine he’d have gotten restless and bored very quickly.

Of course there was Sam as well. Loyal Sam, outside trimming the gardens and watering the hedges and all. He would come in now and then, invited as a guest but preferring to act as servant, cooking their meals and cleaning up a bit inside the hole when he was allowed.

“Now, Mr. Frodo,” he’d say when Frodo objected, “my old gaffer has enough of a time dealing with all these goings on here. I can’t have him thinking I’ve gone and stepped above my lot, if you follow me. You and Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin are nice enough company, and I’ve had as much good talk and good times here as I did when Mr. Bilbo was master of the hole, but I’ll not go forgetting myself and trying to grow into a flower when I was born a weed.”

Since there was no talking to him, Frodo tolerated it. He made sure Pippin and Merry never took advantage, but to his relief they treated Sam more as a friend than a servant, and always bought him ales when they went to the Green Dragon.

It was on such a night that Frodo found himself watching his cousins, singing yet another song and dancing on yet another table to the applause of all customers. Hobbiton was a small province of the Shire, and its folk were superstitious and a bit leery of those from other parts, but for all their gossip about the two newest residents at Bag End, they weren’t proud enough to let themselves be entertained by them.

Silly hobbits, Frodo found himself thinking for not the first time. There was so much more to the world than they knew. Elves, and men, and dwarves. Gandalf, who to them was nothing more than a bringer of fireworks. History and lore and races come and gone who deserved to be known. But they couldn’t bring themselves to read about anything that wasn’t familiar to them.

They’d do well with a bit of intrusion from the outside world, Frodo knew. Something to open their dulled eyes. But he loved them dearly, and the Shire.

Still, his thoughts bent to Bilbo, and where he was. He wanted dearly to see the old hobbit again, to talk to him.

“You alright, Mr. Frodo?”

Frodo looked over at Sam, who’d noticed the moment his absent smile in Merry and Pip’s direction had faded. “Hmm? Oh, yes, Sam. Just thinking.”

“About Mr. Bilbo?” Sam nodded. “I do that myself sometimes. Do you really suppose he’ll never come back here? I can’t imagine any hobbit wanting to leave for good and all.”

“I don’t know,” Frodo answered honestly. “I don’t think so. There’s too much out there to keep him busy.” He smiled to himself. “He’d never come back without having his book finished, but then he’d never finish the book until he had seen everything there is to see. And one lifetime’s not enough for that.”

“Do you suppose he’s with the elves?”

Frodo laughed. “Now, Sam. He probably is, but if I tell you for certain you’ll go running off after him before even I have a chance to.”

Sam chuckled and lofted his mug of ale in salute. “Maybe someday I’ll have cause to see an elf, but I can’t imagine it’d be from running after Bilbo Baggins. My legs aren’t near fast enough.”

“Nobody’s are.” Frodo lifted his own mug and clinked glasses with his friend, drinking a quiet but cheerful toast to his uncle.

A cheer and laughter from the crowd around them drew their attention, and Frodo laughed at the sight of Merry nearly falling from the table as the two hobbits were trying to climb down. “Ho, Merry! You’ve overdrank yourself again, I think!”

Pip managed to get Merry back on his feet, and they headed over through the back-clapping hobbits around them.

Merry attempted to peer at him with dignity. “I have done no such thing, you impertinent Baggins. I’ve had the same to drink as Pippin, and the day he outdrinks me is the day Buckland falls to the rule of the Tooks.” He grinned at them as they sat, squinting at Frodo. “Now, good sirs, which of you four is my cousin?”

Pippin laughed as he sat beside Merry. “I must say, despite the odd looks we still get around here, I think this change in scenery has been good for us. It seems to have lightened all our spirits, and in a time it might have been most needed,” he added with a nod at Frodo.

Frodo smiled. “If you ask these good and responsible hobbits around us, they’d tell you your spirits were far too light already. You and Merry both.”

Pippin scowled, though it lasted an instant only and then softened to a smile. “Not Merry here. Trapped with his father, suffering long lectures about his future responsibilities as Master of Buckland. He was getting almost serious, if you can imagine.”

“I can’t,” Sam answered in a mumble, earning a laugh from the other three.

“I suppose my own lectures about being a proper Hobbiton hobbit are much easier to ignore,” Frodo put in.

Merry grinned. “Much.”

“You two are lucky you don’t have someone like my old gaffer after you,” Sam put in, nodding at the back table where the Gaffer, no doubt telling one of his Baggins tales, was talking quietly to a rapt crowd.

“I’ll say.” Merry laughed. “In fact, that’s another reason this move has been well-timed. I think even you, Master Samwise Gamgee, have grown more lighthearted since we came.”

“Agreed! To Sam!” Pippin lofted his mug.

Merry echoed the toast, and then a grinning Frodo. Sam blushed and drank from his cup and pretended (badly) that he hadn’t heard.

***

Bag End was too large for any one hobbit to manage, Frodo thought to himself not for the first time as he opened the door and moved into the hole. The hall beyond the door was too large, dark and hollowed. Shadows jumped this way and that in the light that came in from outside.

He looked around, and something in his stomach gave a jump. Something was odd here. Something was wrong. He shut the door slowly behind him and looked round carefully, trying to sort out what felt different.

He moved down the dim hall towards the kitchen, having a mind for one of the blackberry tarts that had come up from Buckland in the day’s post. He moved slowly, though, wary for a reason he couldn’t quite name. There were papers, maps of Bilbo’s fluttering in the breeze, and his frown deepened when he saw the large round window in the front study was half-open.

Frodo’s thoughts went to Merry instantly. His cousin was trailing behind - he and Pip had a mug to finish before they came back to the hole. But it was silly to be worried about them taking the path from the Green Dragon back to Bag End.

The heavy hand that fell on his shoulder was enough to make him jump and gasp.

It was Gandalf’s face that loomed down from the shadows, looking strangely wild and disheveled. “Is it secret? Is it safe?”

Frodo caught his breath, staring at the wizard with round, shocked eyes. “I…I assume so. What are you-”

“You assume?” Gandalf repeated, and his voice was a growl, deep and grinding in Frodo’s ears. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know,” Frodo answered, thoroughly baffled.

“You don’t know?” It was a roar suddenly, and the walls of the hole seemed to shudder with the pressure of containing it.

Frodo took a step back, for the first time in his life afraid of the wizard. “You told Merry not to tell me where he put it! You told him to hide it.”

Gandalf straightened, and whether the answer satisfied or he noticed Frodo’s fright, his face softened. His glower faded to a deep frown. “Where is Meriadoc now?”

“I left him with Pippin down at the Dragon.”

Gandalf’s sternness returned, his brow furrowed dangerously. “You mean to tell me he is out getting drunk at a time like this?”

Frodo moved back on stumbling feet, both to get a lamp to light the shadows out of this dark room and to get a few feet between him and this strange version of Gandalf. “A time like this? I don’t understand.”

“You do not have to understand, Frodo Baggins. Find him at once and bring him back here.”

Frodo nodded instantly, wide-eyed.

“Frodo.” Gandalf’s voice was suddenly quieter, more like his old self. “I would not demand it if it weren’t important.”

Frodo nodded, accepting it as some form of apology. He could recognize his old friend in there after all, and he felt more certain as he took the lantern from beside the door and moved out of the hole into the fresh air outside.

The night was cool and quiet, and he had only been on the path for a minute or so before he heard voices approaching. Laughter and singing, a familiar sound now that Merry – and because of him Pippin – was now staying at Bag End.

He moved forward hurriedly, Gandalf’s urgency having made its impression. He felt suddenly that he’d been foolish to ever stop being frightened and wary. The lazy days between the wizard’s visits had been easy to get lost in, but now it felt as if he’d made a mistake somehow, and he owed it to Gandalf to be more responsible.

The moment two curly-topped heads were in sight, he called out. “Merry?” He made his voice casual, in case there were other stragglers heading towards Bagshot Row that might be within hearing. “Come, I need your help inside.”

“Frodo!” Merry picked up his pace, dragging Pippin alongside. “You left exactly two minutes too early! You missed Sandyman making an absolute ass out of himself in front of Rosie Cotton. Sam missed it to, which is the real shame. We want to go to Number Three and tell him all about it!”

Frodo laughed nervously and put an arm around Merry’s shoulder when he was close enough, leading him firmly. “You’ll have to wait until morning, unless you want to do battle with his Gaffer tonight.”

Pippin grimaced in distaste. “No, no, the mood is far too cheerful to deal with him tonight.”

Frodo listened to their idle chatter about the Gaffer, and how sly and slick they’d be in dealing with him – in the morning, of course. He steered them into Bag End, leading Merry firmly and letting Pippin come in behind before he shut the door. The moment they were safely inside and alone he turned to his cousins. “Quiet your laughter. Gandalf has returned.”

Fortunately the two hobbits’ exuberance was only half-drink, and they both managed to look surprised but more serious. “Gandalf?” Merry asked. “I hadn’t heard of his returning to the Shire.”

“And if you value your lives and this Shire, no one will hear about it from you.” Gandalf’s voice was a stern rumble as he stepped through the door into the parlor. His eyes went to Pippin immediately. “Peregrin Took.”

Pippni shook his head instantly. “This is the part where you tell me to leave and I put up a fight. Well, we can jump right past that and assume you told and I fought, because I’m not leaving.”

“Confound you, stubborn Took! Understand that there is more at stake here than your foolish pride.” Gandalf straightened, the top of his white head nearly scraping the ceiling of the high-domed parlor. He glowered down at them, and his voice was full and low, rich with a thrill of promise. This was a wizard, they were all suddenly reminded. Fireworks were the least of his talents. “Leave at once or I will have you removed.”

Merry and Pippin stared at the wizard in shock, and even Frodo’s usual reverence for the old man was dimmed with alarm.

Gandalf glowered right back at them. “I will not argue, nor will I delay my already delayed purposes another instant arguing about it or listening to you debate amongst yourselves. You will leave us. Now.”

Pippin straightened, his hands balled into fists and his mouth pursed in youthful outrage. Stiffly he turned on his heel and marched to the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Frodo and Merry exchanged a look, and obviously both had the same thought – if Pippin was going home than Gandalf was a harmless old man.

Gandalf gestured, drawing their eyes. “Into the study, both of you.” He ushered them when they didn’t appear to be moving fast enough. “Come, come. Now. Merry. Where is it?”

Merry hesitated, then reached under his collar, pulling out a thin chain of silver Frodo had never noticed before. Dangling at the bottom was a familiar golden ring. “I know you said to hide it, but being in Hobbiton the safest place I could think of was just keeping it with me.”

Gandalf ignored him, reaching out instantly, slipping a finger beneath the chain and snapping it. He took the ring from Merry but was careful not to touch the thing himself. He turned and with one long stride tossed the chain and ring into the fireplace.

Merry cried out strangely. “What are you doing?” He jumped after Gandalf as if to dive in after the ring.

Frodo grabbed his arm, surprised, and held him back.

Gandalf continued to ignore them. He sat down before the fireplace and stared at the flames for a few long, silent moments. Finally he took hold of the tongs from the side of the fireplace and reached in carefully. The ring emerged gripped by the tongs, and he turned and held them out towards Merry. “Let him go, Frodo. Come, take it.”

Merry pulled out of Frodo’s grasp and moved forwards, his eyes locked on the ring but his hand hesitating. He glanced at the fire.

“Go on.” Gandalf motioned with the tongs. “It’s quite cool.”

Merry frowned, but his eyes locked on the ring again and his hand came up as if drawn. The tongs open and the ring dropped into his palm, and his arm dipped as if the little thing was heavy somehow. Instantly Merry’s fingers curled over it, and he relaxed. The odd look in his eyes faded.

Gandalf turned away, setting the tongs down and peering at the fire. “Tell me what you see. Do you see anything?”

Frodo gave a start, looking at Gandalf’s back. This wasn’t the grim, dangerous wizard of before. This was an almost frightened old man, waiting as if for the fate of the world.

Merry looked at the ring, holding it close to him and prying his protective fingers off to reveal it. His same beautiful golden ring, flawless and unmarked. He opened his mouth to say so when he noticed a change. A light, burning gold in the dim room, appeared like a crack so thin it couldn’t be measured. It sliced a pattern quickly until it seemed to cover the ring, inside and out. He frowned at the pattern and realized it looked like some of the books he’d been looking at lately. “There are markings,” he said softly as he studied them. “Writing, I think, an engraving. Sort of glowing like the fire was trapped inside of it. But I can’t make any sense of it.”

Frodo had come up to him as he talked, his eyes on the ring in interest. His eyebrows rose when he saw enough to identify it. “It’s Elvish,” he said. “But I can’t read it.” He leaned it, reaching for Merry’s hand to guide it closer.

To his shock Merry jumped, pushing at his arm and moving out of reach defensively. His fist closed around the ring and he stared at his cousin almost in challenge.

Frodo blinked at him, astonished.

Gandalf’s voice stopped them from speaking. “The language is that of Mordor. I will not speak it here.”

Their attention was caught and the last moments forgotten as both turned to the wizard. “Mordor?” Frodo was hushed.

Gandalf turned back, grim.

--

“One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them
One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.
In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie.”

Gandalf looked from one astonished, frightened face to the other. “This is the One Ring. Forged by Sauron, keeper of his power.”

Frodo was stunned, staring at the ring now set on the table between them. “How did it come to Bilbo? Gollum’s cave…” He shook his head, nearly speechless in amazement. He felt cold, though the fire still burned merrily oblivious to the troubles of the world in the large fireplace.

Gandalf sighed and nodded grimly. “Bilbo found it, which is the strangest fortune to find the ring, I believe, in the whole of its existence.”

“You’re talking about my ring,” Merry put in suddenly, sharp and frowning. “The little golden trinket that Bilbo used to put on to play jokes.”

Gandalf frowned at that. “Bilbo was lucky. Very lucky not to attract attention. But the Enemy was powerless through these past decades. It is only recently that he has summoned the strength to set his mind back on finding his lost treasure. Bilbo was lucky, and you have been lucky. But we can no longer trust to luck. I fear it may already be too late.”

“Too late for what?” Merry asked in alarm.

“The ring has rested here, dormant, but it had been awakened. There are dark forces rising in the east. Sauron has bent his mind to the ring, to all rumours and stories of such things. He has spied the lands long and far, and has heard finally that the ring was not destroyed, and that it remains.”

“I thought you said Sauron was destroyed. By Isildur.” Merry frowned. “Or if not you said he just now got back enough strength to look for it. How dangerous can he be?”

“No, Merry. Sauron could not be destroyed while the ring survived. His fate is bound to the fate of the ring. It was lost, and like it he was lost. But they have both gained strength as they rested, through long years and with the benefit of having been mostly forgotten. And now.” Gandalf leaned forward, looking from the two frightened faces before him to the ring on the table close to Merry’s twitching hand. “Sauron has summoned enough strength to act. As he gathers his orcs and rebuilds his lands, always he has been searching for this ring. And lately he has grown strong enough to call for it.”

Merry’s fingertip found the rim of the ring, stroking over it lightly.

Gandalf sat back. “And it has heard his calls. It feels his presence ever stronger. The ring wants to return to the hand of its master.”

Merry was speechless.

Frodo looked from the ring to Gandalf, astounded. “How did it ever come to find its way here? How could you have left it here, knowing what it was? Not even giving us a warning? It should be with…with elves, or with you!”

Gandalf raised his eyebrows, peering at the hobbit he’d known from infancy. “I learned the identity of the ring at the same time as you – minutes ago, when the fiery words appeared, in this very room. The history of the ring isn’t one that any single person can know, though I have put most of it together, through years of hunting. But history is unimportant right now. Frodo. Meriadoc. Sauron’s armies are almost restored. Soon he will have nothing to distract him from his search for this ring. And he must never…” He paused to stress the word. “Never be allowed to find it.”

Merry took the ring up suddenly, curling his fist around it. Wide eyes went to Frodo and Gandalf in turn.

Frodo met his gaze and was reminded, suddenly and strongly, of a chubbier, younger, innocent Merry toddling after him as a child, looking to him for explanation of the world around them. Looking to Frodo for everything: to put right wrongs, to silence fears, to make things make sense.

Frodo looked away. This was beyond him, beyond any of them. His eyes went to Gandalf, to the one man he knew who would be fit to carry this load.

Merry spoke suddenly, sounding out his words as if speaking them unfiltered as the thoughts were born. “The ring survived here safe and undetected for decades. Surely it can be hidden again, while only a few of us know about it.”

Frodo watched Gandalf’s reaction, even as his heart leapt. “We’ll hide it away. Merry can put it where no one will ever stumble across it, and we’ll never even speak of it again. Not even to each other.”

Merry stood suddenly, encouraged. “I know just the place.”

But Frodo’s eyes stayed on Gandalf, and he saw that the old wizard didn’t seem in the slightest appeased. He spoke hesitantly. “It will be safe here. No one else knows it’s here. Do they?”

Gandalf met his eyes, grim.

Frodo’s heart sank.

From behind him, Merry was pacing the floor and speaking mostly to himself. “There’s a spot I know of. I’ll have to set out tomorrow, first thing. Near the borders of the Old Forest. I’m sure it’s a place no hobbit has ever seen, save me and Pippin, and even he was too young to remember it.” He stopped and looked at the two of them decisively. “It will be safe there.”

Gandalf shook his head. When he spoke, it was a low and halting voice as if he were reluctant to interrupt what triumph Merry had found in the thought. “There is one other who knew that Bilbo had the ring.”

Merry sat down slowly, his fist pressed to his chest.

“I looked everywhere for the creature Gollum. I searched myself, and my most trusted allies searched where I could not. Certain elves were set to the task, and a man, a hunter the likes of which hasn’t been seen in men for an age. Aragorn, a Ranger, and my close ally for many a year. It was he who found Gollum, after years of search and after I had given up hope of it. He turned the creature over to me, and I endured his babblings and rantings until I had gotten some measure of truth from him.”

Frodo held his breath, and beside him Merry frowned.

“Gollum had picked his way up and down the forests chasing his precious, his lost ring. He found his way to Mordor, by summons or chance I know not. The enemy took him to their dungeons. And in his incoherent confessions he spoke of the Shire. And of Baggins.”

Frodo paled, his breath coming out in a rasp. “Gandalf. That will bring them here.”

Gandalf nodded.

Merry shook his head, his voice faint. “Bilbo is gone, though. Everyone knows it. Won’t they be looking for Bilbo?”

Frodo’s eyes widened, imagining shapeless dark evils chasing his old uncle as he strolled alone down some forest path.

“It won’t matter what they learn of Bilbo. The Shire, unimportant and small, is now important in Sauron’s mind. He will send his forces after every possible clue. Perhaps they will follow Bilbo, as he is the Baggins Gollum knew. But they will come here as well.”

“They can’t!” Merry stood again, looking around as if to wield off distant armies with his eyes. “Not here. Not because of…” He looked at his tightly clutched fist, and suddenly thrust it out towards Gandalf. “Take it! Take it away from here!”

Gandalf rose and backed away from the table, his gaze locked on the offered fist. “No.”

“But you can get it somewhere safe. You’re a wizard, you can handle evil. The Shire can’t! Take it, Gandalf! We can be rid of it!”

“You must not offer it to me,” Gandalf replied, his voice a rasp.

Frodo started at the look on the wizard’s face – fear. Foreign to the old man entirely, and jarring to be seen now. “Gandalf, can’t you take it somewhere safer?”

“No! No not tempt me, you infuriating hobbits!” The words were a roar, rumbling strong enough to make the small room of the hole shudder. His arms came out as if to push at Merry, to ward the ring away. He breathed in, the hole stopped rumbling, and the wildness left his eyes. “I dare not take it.”

Merry drew his hand back, round eyes glossed, uncertain and small.

When Gandalf spoke again his voice was back to normal. His shoulders slumped and he seemed a tired old man again. “Understand, Frodo. Merry. I would take this ring in my arrogance to keep it safe, because I know that I am stronger than most any other. But the ring knows arrogance and how to exploit it, and after a time of it working on my mind I would use it. Out of desire to do good, you must understand, I would use this ring and it would wield such power through me as to make it as dangerous and terrifying as if we’d handed it back to Sauron himself.”

Frodo swallowed, frightened beyond measure by this admission, this knowing that the little ring in Merry’s hand was too strong for Gandalf. Gandalf, the strongest he’d ever known. “But you said it can’t stay here.”

“It cannot,” Gandalf confirmed.

Frodo stared at the wizard. It couldn’t stay in the Shire. Gandalf could not carry it away. No one else could be told of it.

There was no option left. And yet…

It was hard. To leave the Shire. And to leave this way. It was beyond his grasp to comprehend it. No matter how many daydreams he’d had to go with Bilbo on an adventure, to leave the provencial Shire and its silly hobbits behind.

But Gandalf’s eyes were not on him. They were on Merry. And Frodo was reminded suddenly and sharply that this was not his adventure to take, and the choice was not his. He looked at his young cousin.

Merry was pale, and his sharp mind had come to the answer as well, though he didn’t seem any happier about it. He spoke, hushed, into the silence. “What…what will I have to do?”

“Leave the Shire,” Gandalf answered gently. “Tonight. There isn’t a moment to be lost.”

Merry flinched, but nodded.

“And I?” Frodo braved the question.

Gandalf frowned at him. “You, Frodo. I can begin to understand why the ring was perhaps not meant for you, despite my greatest wishes. When the enemy discovers that what little information he has wrung from his Gollum creature is entirely false, he will be at a loose end. The ring will not be in the Shire, nor will it be in possession of a Baggins.”

“But they won’t know that until they come here,” Merry put in, glancing at Frodo. “They’ll come here looking.”

Gandalf nodded. “It isn’t safe for you to stay.”

Frodo turned instantly, not giving himself time to think about it. “Then if we have no moments to lose we must prepare.”

Merry grabbed his arm, and Frodo looked over at him. Merry’s eyes were wide, but there was relief there as well. “Frodo…”

Frodo nodded at him, giving what he hoped to be a comforting smile. “Come on.”

Gandalf followed the two hobbits as they moved through the front rooms of the small hole, gathering belongings and stuffing them into their worn walking packs. “The ring must not be talked about, nor shown to anyone. Frodo, whether you carry this thing or not, you must remember that the name of Baggins is not safe. It’s you the dark forces will be following, and your name is their only means of tracing you.”

Frodo nodded, wrapping bread for the journey, tossing apples into his pack.

Merry spoke, and his voice was almost light. Inacting the plan semed to have rid him of his fears, at least on the surface. “You shall become a Brandybuck, then, Master Baggins, the way all your aunts and uncles and cousins wished you would.”

The small smile on Merry’s face lifted Frodo’s spirits slightly, and he nodded. He was able to return the smile, which was a surprise. Despite this unheard-of departure and the danger surrounding them suddenly, he was glad he wasn’t alone. Glad Merry was there with him, and glad also that Merry would not be carrying his burden without Frodo there to help.

“Brandybuck will do,” Gandalf said brusquely. “The most important thing is to get the ring out of the Shire, and so out of knowledge of those who will come hunting. Choose a direction and set out, and I will meet you on the way. Rivendell, Frodo.” He turned to Frodo sharply. “I think perhaps that should be your destination.”

“Rivendell!” Merry smiled. “Well, that’s almost a holiday! The fabled home of high elves!”

Frodo looked at Gandalf. “Will the ring be safe there?”

“I don’t know.” Gandalf frowned. “I don’t have any answers. I must go to see the head of my order. I will meet you, as I said. Get to Rivendell, if I’ve not already found you, and wait for me there.”

Frodo nodded, his faith in Gandalf unshaken even by these revelations.

“You must avoid the road. It won’t be safe.”

“We can cross country. We’ll go to visit my home, or so the interfering hobbits here can be told, and from there we can leave the Shire and hope not to be seen. I know the land there well,” Merry said as he slipped his pack on his back.

Gandalf nodded his approval. He looked at both of them as Frodo slipped his pack on. He smiled suddenly, a kindly expression that made Frodo’s spirits lift all the higher. “Hobbits are truly extraordinary creatures. Under all the laughter and smoking and eating, there are steel rings that can’t be seen. There is strength to you, and that should prove well in our favour. Bagginses, I think, are the strongest of all.”

Frodo straightened, pride in his face.

Gandalf looked to Merry. “I pray Brandybucks to be the same. You have no idea of the load you now carry, Meriadoc. You have heard the tale, yet I fear you still don’t know, and can’t.” He knelt suddenly, holding Merry’s wide gaze. “My heart wishes this thing were in Frodo’s hands, I admit. It was always planned that way and I’ve yet to be shown why it shouldn’t have been so. But things have a way of working out whichever way they want to, our own preferences aside. All our hopes lie in your hands, Merry. Will you be able to carry this through?”

Merry met his eyes, silent and shrinking under the enormity of what he’d been given to deal with.

Frodo didn’t envy his young cousin. Merry was as lighthearted and irresponsible a hobbit as one could meet, and simply wasn’t ready to be thrown into one of the stories, the adventures of the sort Bilbo often told and Frodo had longed to be part of.

But there was no choice to be made, no options for any of them. Like Gandalf, Merry had to accept what had happened and not risk things by changing it. Like Gandalf, and Frodo himself, Merry had to simply do his best.

Still, Merry peered into ancient and powerful eyes, and slumped under solemn words, and could not reply aloud.

Frodo hoped it wasn’t an omen of things to come.
------------------------------------------------------------------

Printed from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) on Sat Nov 14, 2026 8:21 pm