You’re Definitely Not a Rohan Warrior
By: Nevaeh Elenath

Chapter one
Denied

A.N. This story has a lot of quotes from RotK, which belongs to New Line Cinema and Tolkien but not to me. *sob* I am too lazy to point them out but I think you can figure them out for yourself.

“There, you are a true esquire of Rohan,” said Eowyn placing the helm on my head. I couldn’t help but grin.

“I’m ready!” I said jerking out my sword. Eowyn jumped as it swung past her. “Sorry. ’tisn’t all that dangerous, it’s not even sharp,”

“Well you won’t kill many orcs with a blunt blade, c’mon let’s get it fixed.” She said, leading me out. I practiced a few attack motions that Boromir taught me. “To the smithy! Go!” she said pushing me past Eomer and Gamling. I walked forward but stopped behind a tent, thinking about Boromir, then something reached my ears.

“You shouldn’t encourage him,” came Eomer’s voice.

“You should not doubt him!” Eowyn said.

“I do not doubt his heart, only the reach of his arm,” Eomer replied, I heard Gamling chuckle.

Shame bubbled inside me, I was small, only half the size of him. Maybe I wasn’t fit for this war. I walked to the smithy, head hung, doubt lingering in my mind. Why did everyone see me as a small useless item of baggage? Eowyn didn’t, of course maybe she knew how I felt.

“What are you doing here child?” came a voice.

“I am NOT a child!” I said vehemently.

“Oh, I am sorry master Halfling,” it was the black smith.

“There is nothing to be sorry about, I could be mistaken as such,” I muttered feeling ashamed.

“Master Merry! Preparing yourself?” came Aragorn’s voice as he walked up to us.

“Yes,” I said in a cheerless tone, “just having my blade sharpened.”

“Is there something troubling you?” he asked.

“No!” I said sharply, then paused. “Yes, there is,”

Aragorn frowned slightly then said to the black smith, “When you are finished with his blade send it to his tent.” Then to me, “Come Merry, let’s talk.” I nodded and followed him to the edge of the camp. “What is wrong?”

“Aragorn, am I . . . too small to fight in a war?” I asked.

“If you want my true opinion, yes. But I cannot tell you not to go to war, that is for you to decide,” Aragorn consoled. “Why do you ask?”

“I just heard Eomer talking about me, he didn’t seem to think I could fight,” I said.

“There will be many who think that, but I do not, for I have seen you in battle,” he replied.

I smiled weakly. He at least was encouraging me. “Thank you, Aragorn, I suppose I shall see you on the morrow?”

“I’m afraid not Meriadoc.” He said. “I am going on an adventure that only I can go on, I’m leaving tonight.”

I frowned. “Then I will have to draw courage from someone else. Certainly not Eomer,” my bitterness was ill-concealed.

“Merry, forgive him for what he said. He doesn’t see you the way I do. He hasn’t seen you fight.” Aragorn said.

“I suppose you’re right, but he shouldn’t have said such a thing. I will make him eat his words!” I proclaimed.

“Let him feast away!” he clapped me on the shoulder, “We will meet again Master Merry!” then he walked off without another word.

I wandered around camp, the conversation swirling in my mind. I reached the edge of the cliff and looked over. Fires glittered like jewels far below at the other camps. I watched them for a few moments thinking of Pippin and hoping he was safe. Paladin would kill me if he wasn’t. Then my thoughts turned to Frodo and Sam, somewhere in the deep dark of Mordor. I only hoped they were still alive.

“Merry?”

I jumped, and groped for my sword which wasn’t there. But I did not need it, it was only Eowyn. “You frightened me!” I said.

“I’m sorry, it’s getting late, I thought you would want to retire to your tent,” she said.

“Not yet, but thank you for telling me. I feel . . . what’s the word for it, pensive. I need some time to think,” I answered. “But before you go, what are you afraid of?”

“To be kept in a cage, until old age accepts it. When valor is far beyond call or desire.” She replied softly.

I sat down and hugged my knees. “I am afraid of death, torture, pain, the death of one I hold close, the Dark Lord himself, wildfires, the Old Forest, drowning, freezing, orcs; whatever would kill and care little, large dogs, anything that has sharp teeth and is a lot bigger than me I suppose, and countless other things,”

“But you do have courage, don’t you?” Eowyn asked.

I thought for a moment, random memories ran through my head: Killing orcs in Moria, taking on the cave troll when it stabbed Frodo, trying to help Boromir kill the attacking Uruk-hai, and the Black Riders; standing in between them and Frodo. “Yes, I suppose I have courage when it is truly needed. But mostly when my friends are in trouble.”

“But isn’t that what is most important?”she asked. “Finding our courage when friends are in need?”

“I guess so,” I replied thoughtfully, “but sometimes courage isn’t enough to help our friends,”

“That other Halfling that was with you, what was his name?” Eowyn asked.

“Pippin Took, he is one of my kin, and one of my best friends,” I replied. At that moment I wanted to tell her all about the fellowship, all about Frodo and the Ring, I knew I could trust her, but I was bound to secrecy. Then a thought came. “Eowyn, do you know why I’m here and not in my own land?”

“Yes,” she said. “You were sent on a quest to destroy a weapon made by the enemy,”

“Then I can tell you something else. Pippin and I weren’t the only hobbits on the journey.” I said.

“There is another?” Eowyn asked.

“Two others. One was another of my kin, Frodo Baggins. He has ‘the weapon’ and is taking it to Mt. Doom. The other is with him, Samwise Gamgee, a friend of mine. I am most afraid that they have been killed.” I explained, my voice cracking. I heard a rustle and felt a hand touch my shoulder, Eowyn was kneeling beside me.

“The world away from home can be a scary place. I think we would all know if your kin was dead, and the Dark Lord had the weapon,” she consoled.

“You’re right, on both comments, I’m tired I think I shall go to my tent,” I said yawning.

“Then I will bid you goodnight and see you in the morning.” She answered. I stood up and walked to my tent, finding my sword leaning casually against the pole, I slid it into its scabbard. Then I cast my armor off and crawled in bed without bothering to change into a nightshirt.

* * *

“War is no place for a hobbit, Master Meriadoc” King Theoden said, his horse towering over me.

“All my friends have gone to battle, I would be ashamed to be left behind” I said lightly.

“No warrior who can bear you as a burden,” he said.

“But I want to fight!” I protested.

“I will say no more,” he said galloping away. I kicked the dirt angrily. There, Eomer had his way! I wasn’t going to fight! I had failed Aragorn, I couldn’t make Eomer eat his words. Then something happened, I felt someone grabbed the back of my armor, suddenly I was being lifted off the ground and onto a saddle.

“Stay with me Merry,” said a voice I instantly recognized.

“My lady!” I said grinning.

“Yes Merry, you are not the only who was denied fighting for those they love,” she said.