LOTR/Hobbit Imagines

Merry - Of bookcases and headaches

Merry was on his way to meet up with Pippin in the Green Dragon, their weekly visit for a pint or two to celebrate the end of the week. Or the beginning of a new one. Any reason was a good one really.

The all too familiar path took him past your house and he caught himself slowing down his pace every time, in the hopes of catching you outside so he could invite you to join him.

Which was ridiculous really, since you were both friends who regularly talked to each other. It wouldn't be considered weird for him to knock on your door and simply ask you to join him for a pint.

But somehow Merry found it extremely difficult to do so.

Most of the time he just lingered for a few seconds before he chickened out and quickly continued his way to his favorite pub, telling himself that next time he'll be brave enough to do it.

Today however it went a little different.

When he stopped at the white fence surrounding your yard, he noticed something different about your house. Something that didn't feel quite right. It took him a while before he realized what was wrong.

The curtains were drawn.

And it wasn't even time for afternoon tea yet!

Without a second thought, Merry opened the gate and made his way over to your yellow front door. Gone were his nerves and his doubts, replaced with worry for you.

He knocked a few times but you didn't answer.

It wasn't until he started knocking on your window, calling out your name that he heard the front door unlock.

"Y/N?" he asked.

You had opened the door just a smidge, enough for you to be able to see who was so rude to disturb your peace and quiet.

"Merry?" you croaked.

Merry's face went blank when he heard your raspy voice.

"Y/N? Are you alright? What's wrong?!"

You winced at the volume of his voice, and one of your hands flew to the side of your head. "Shhhh," you shushed him, stepping back into the darkness of your entrance hall and leaving the door open.

Merry hesitated for a second, not sure if he should follow. But if you didn't want him to come inside, you would've closed the door or told him to go bugger off. Right?

Every curtain in the house was drawn, there weren't any candles lit and Merry's eyes needed some time to adjust to the lack of light before he could go any further.

As he entered your living room, his eyes widened at the state it was in. Books and scrolls scattered everywhere, like they were carelessly tossed aside without a second thought where they would end up. This was very unlike you.

He watched you curl up in your armchair with a heavy sigh, tucking your feet under you and burying yourself under your blanket. It was obvious he had woken you up, which explained the raspiness of your voice.

"This place is a mess, Y/N... "
"Yeah, thanks to you," you accused him.
 "What did I do?" Merry looked at you confused.
 "You don't have to yell, I can hear you just fine."
"Y/N, I'm not yelling," he said, taking a few steps in your direction.
"Are you sure you're alright?"

You ignored his question.

"My living room looks like a troll horde because I was looking for that."

You pointed towards the small wooden side table where, in between empty teacups and dirty plates, lay a thick book with a dark blue binder.

Merry recognized the silver lettering on the spine.