Written for Marigold's Challenge 10:

Title: And Empty Holes It Fills
Author: Lindelea
Rating: PG
Main Characters: Merry (and Pippin)
Disclaimer: The characters aren’t mine, but I sometimes sneak out with them for a cup of tea and a biscuit or two, or sit and watch them sleep.
Brief synopsis:
It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt.
It lies behind stars and under hills,
   And empty holes it fills.
It comes first and follows after,
   Ends life, kills laughter.
(From The Hobbit, “Riddles in the Dark”)

And Empty Holes It Fills

He’d never told anyone that he was afraid of the Dark. It’s never really dark in a hobbit hole, after all. Watch-lights shine in the interior rooms at night, lamps during the day, light of Sun, Moon and stars shine in through the windows, and sometimes the walls themselves glow somehow—he’d never learnt what caused such, and perhaps he never will learn, now.

In any event, before he left home, the darkness he’d known outside of a hobbit hole had never been truly dark. There had been the stars shining above, and even on cloudy nights the River had shone with a silvery sheen of its own. The first true Darkness he’d ever seen had been left behind on a Ferry landing as they pulled away from the shore, left behind, sniffing about, looking for... looking for them.

And the darkness in the middle of the night, somehow that was never really dark. In his youngest years, when the Dark frightened him, hiding in the wardrobe or beneath his little bed as it so often did, he’d creep on silent feet to his beloved cousin’s room, climb up onto the high bed, so much higher than his little trundle, and snuggle, to be pulled close, cocooned in the coverlet as strong, loving arms folded about him. He’d close his eyes, no longer afraid, and when he opened them next the Light would have returned to drive the Dark away.

Sometimes there would be tears on the cheek laid against his own, and he would press a sweet kiss there and whisper, ‘I here, Frodo. I keep you safe.’

The arms would tighten, the face would bury itself in his nightgown, and Frodo would whisper, ‘You’re a brave little hobbit, Merry. I’m never afraid when you’re with me.’

In later years, of course, it was another cousin who received his reassurance. ‘I’m here, Pippin. I’ll keep you safe.’ And Pippin would snuggle close, and Merry would wrap the blankets round him and hold him until the nightmare faded and they both dropped off, only to waken at the exclamation of whomever happened to find them together next morning.

I don’t know why we even bother with a guest bed, for they’re always together.

 Ah, but someday they’ll grow apart.

It had been a long time since “Little Pippin” had crawled into Merry’s arms, seeking solace. He was nearly a grown hobbit now, just a few years from his majority. All too soon he’d marry and have little hobbits of his own.

For years now, Merry’d had to face the Dark on his own. It lurked, still, under the bed and behind the closed door of the wardrobe, and sometimes he could hear it scratching at the door, or creeping out from under the bed. Should he stick a foot out from under the bedclothes it would grab at him and pull him under, and he’d never be seen again... Even as he called himself foolish for such fancies, they nagged at him when he woke in the night.

Moria had been worse than his worst nightmare. It was as if the dark dream had come true: His foot had slipped from under the bedclothes and the Dark had reached up and grabbed him and dragged him, in screaming silence, under the bed, swallowing him whole. If he looked away from Gandalf’s staff... but he didn’t. He kept his eyes fixed on that beacon of hope, for to look away was to be lost. If the hobbits had not huddled tight together, a bastion against creeping Shadow, he’d not have slept a wink during that long, nightmare journey.

This is darker than Moria. Suffocating Dark, making it hard to draw breath. Icy, cold Dark, freezing his innards, freezing his thoughts and his memories, freezing his heart and mind and spirit. Devouring Dark, opening wide fathomless jaws to swallow him whole, just as he’d always feared, just as he’d always known it would come for him, creeping from the wardrobe or out from under the bed. His sword burned all away; the Dark has caught him, and he is lost... lost... for ever lost...

Save for a still small voice that keeps holding on to him, fighting off the Dark:

I’m here, Merry. I’ll keep you safe.