Author notes:

Special thanks to Ariel for betaing.

Year: 1360 (Paladin: 27, Merimac: 18)

"Pal? Paladin!"

He heard the desperate call but the air had been knocked out of him. Try as he might, he could not manage more than a helpless gasping for breath. Rain fell onto his face, big cold drops washing away dirt and blood. Cold and wet also worked their way into his clothing. Paladin shifted and winced at the pain in his back.

Dratted pony! What had she shied at anyway? One moment his steed had been calm, the next she had reared up and galloped off into the trees. She had caught him unawares almost throwing him off, but Paladin had held fast, hands clutching the mane and reins in a death grip, and his seat tight to the saddle. He had tried to soothe her, but she would not be calmed. Foaming and with flared nostrils, she had borne him away - and in the wrong direction no less! - until a branch had put an end to his flight. And cursed be that branch too! He would have been able to calm her sooner or later. Instead, he was now sitting in the mud, stranded. There was no use going home to look for her. Newly purchased from Buckland, she did not yet run unerringly to his father's barn as the other ponies usually did. And his father would be in a rage if he showed up at their home without her. He would likely kick him out of the house to look for his new mare.

"Pal, are you all right?" Merimac emerged from between the trees. His skewbald gelding looked decidedly unhappy at their chosen direction. Paladin almost laughed. At least this pony knew the way home.

"Do I look all right?" he asked crossly and struggled to his feet.

"Actually," Merimac started to grin and Paladin shot him a glance that silenced him immediately. As much as he had delighted in his cousin's company before he was certainly in no humour for impish remarks now.

"You're bleeding," Merimac observed instead and reached for his right cheek where the branch had left a long scratch. Paladin avoided the touch.

"Never mind," he said. "Let's find that mare and then head home."

With that, Paladin flung himself onto the remaining pony behind Mac and together they rode southeast. The rain grew heavier as the evening darkened. Paladin wondered how they could have been so unobservant as to not notice the change in the weather, but then he and Mac had been galloping gleefully across the empty fields not looking at the sky. When the rain caught them, they were deep in the forest, unable to see the sky enough to judge it.

The wind whipping his face, blurring his vision and stinging his flushed cheeks was just what Paladin had needed after a day of stiff cordiality and etiquette. Uncomfortable clothes and conversations that could not have interested him any less had been the tenor of a thoroughly unpleasant Sterday. Sigismond and Pansy Took from the Great Smials had come for lunch and Paladin was sick of their conceited ways. The Great Smials were everything to them. Life was so civilised there and why Adalgrim bothered to lead this rustic kind of life, which was far beneath any Took, was beyond them. His farm surely didn't bring him much of an income.

Had he not been bored even more by the card games his cousins had engaged themselves in all afternoon, Paladin would not have sat down for tea with the adults. He had barely spoken a word aside from polite answers to his relatives' inquiries though he had been seething inside. Only his father's warning glances had kept him from giving Sigismond a piece of his mind.

Paladin had all but rejoiced when his youngest cousin had grown tired of the card game and he had immediately dragged Merimac to the stables, knowing that he would never object to a ride. Both his Brandybuck cousins were spending their post-harvest holidays in Whitwell before Merimac would have to start his lessons again. Saradoc, so his father had told him, might even begin his apprenticeship after Yule.

Recklessly, he and Merimac had flown southwards, pushing their ponies as if they were on the run, savouring the feel of wind in their hair and the sound of hoofs pounding the ground like thunder. It was life in full vigour, freedom beyond space and time.

Nothing compared to the slow pace they had settled into now. The skewbald hung his head drearily. After some prancing and stubborn snorting, he had finally given up trying to convince his riders that south was the wrong way. Paladin and Merimac had the hoods of their cloaks drawn up, but both looked out from their cowls in vain for the runaway pony.

"Where has she run to?" Merimac eventually grumbled. "The forest's southern edge can't be too much farther."

That struck him. Paladin looked over Merimac's shoulder and frowned. They had left the narrow path leading through the forest even before his pony had shied, but there was something peculiar about the withered trees they were now passing. "The way we were galloping, we should have been long through by now."

Merimac turned. "I think the fall did some damage to your head after all."

"No, I mean it," Paladin replied and was about to offer a longer explanation when he suddenly caught sight of something moving between the trees. "Look."

Merimac heaved a sigh of relief. "Dinner isn't too far off now."

Paladin smacked his cousin's head. "You're a glutton, Mac! Wait here until I have her."

With that, Paladin slipped from the pony's back and hurried through the trees. He was soaked to the bones and in the growing darkness he could tell that he and Mac would never make it home in time for dinner as he had promised. His father would be furious. Dinner was probably over with already but it wasn't food Paladin was craving, as much as a hot bath and a steaming pot of tea.

Once he'd reached the spot where he had thought he had seen his lost pony, Paladin frowned. There was no sign of the mare. Instead he found himself standing at the outer edge of a clearing. He had run through this small forest all his life and knew it like the back of his hand - or so he had thought, but never had he come across this glade or the small lake in the middle of it, its dark surface now curling like a boiling brew in the heavy rain. At the far end of the clearing stood an old wooden shed. Paladin could barely make out. It looked abandoned and decayed, with missing shingles and an unkempt garden.

"Merimac!" he called out, but there was no need to. His cousin was already approaching.

"You never told me about this place," the younger rebuked wonderingly. "Where are we?"

Paladin felt an odd tingling on the back of his neck as if someone were watching him closely. He turned but there were nothing but trees, their last leaves rustling in the wind. A shiver ran down his spine and fear awoke in his stomach. "I don't know."

~*~*~

"If we're lucky, she has found her way back home already," Paladin noted running a gentle hand along the gelding's nose. He patted the pony's neck not sure whether the action comforted it or himself more.

Paladin had an eerie feeling about this place. Had Merimac not insisted on staying in the shed until the morning, he would have suggested riding home even though he was not quite sure of the way. He welcomed the shelter it provided as much as his cousin, but he could not shake off the sense that something wasn't quite right.

"Don't go up there!" Paladin called as the younger started to climb the ladder to what appeared to be a kind of hayloft. "You shouldn't trust it to hold your weight."

"It looks sturdy enough to me," Merimac said, testing the first few rungs. Before Paladin could object further, he climbed upwards.

Paladin watched him with concern. He didn't trust a single thing in this shed and he wished his cousin would be more cautious as well. It was a bit ironic; not too long ago he would have been just as adventurous as Merimac - and perhaps he still would have been if he hadn't felt so uneasy. The pony was restless too. He stood with his ears erect, alert to every sound.

"There's hay up here!" Merimac exclaimed. "Or at least what's left of it. And --" The comment was interrupted by a disgusted sound. "-- more cobwebs. But at least it's dry - reasonably so."

Paladin shivered as if the mention of a dry place reminded him of just how cold and wet he was. Flinging his arms around his chest and rubbing them, he advanced towards the ladder and looked doubtfully upwards. The boards of the hayloft were grey from humidity and mould. They protested under Merimac's weight as he scurried about above and dust trickled from the chinks between them. Every corner of the little shed was thick with cobwebs and spiders and all kinds of insects crawled around on the floor and beams. It smelled of fussiness, decay, rotten wood and dirt.

Paladin wrinkled his nose, shrugged and climbed the rickety ladder. Carefully, he followed his cousin's example and stepped into the loft. At least the loft was dry - in this corner anyway. Merimac was kneeling at the far end gazing out through a small, glassless, round window.

"You've got a nice view of the lake from up here, but I'm afraid it's not going to clear up anytime soon," he said ruefully and shivered as he drew back. Leaning against the wall, he pulled his wet cloak tighter about him and breathed into his hands. "You don't happen to have any blankets with you?"

Paladin chuckled without humour. "Not today, I'm afraid. Further away from the window we might be a little warmer though."

Merimac gave him a look that told Paladin that he was highly sceptical of that particular claim, but he obliged anyhow. The wood floor was dirty and what little hay they found was moist and mouldy, so they huddled close together for warmth.

It was comfortable enough at first and their spirits lifted, but soon cold, hunger and thirst dampened their spirits. Merimac grew tired and, despite the circumstances, eventually fell asleep, but Paladin was not so lucky. He grew restless as the night wore on. The fear that had filled him when they first came upon the little hut increased. The hollow emptiness it caused was suddenly filled with deep unrest. It sickened him, hemming him in until he could barely breathe, while also setting something horrible loose within him. He should never have come here. If it had not been for Mac he wouldn't have. At first, he was angry with his cousin; then he felt sorry that the youngster had to spend the night like this because of him. But always the fear remained, indefinable yet distinctly present.

Paladin focused on the sounds surrounding him. Rain clattered against the roof, dripping through in various places to puddle on the floor of the hut. Mice scampered around the old building, squeaking their night time greetings and the pony pawed and snorted at them from time to time. He heard the pony's tail swishing against the wood, Merimac's trembling breaths and the clatter of his own teeth. Paladin breathed into his hands and rubbed them together for warmth. He tried humming to keep his mind off the awful darkness around him.

He stopped abruptly and looked up, barely able to discern anything in the darkness. Had there been another voice humming along with his? Paladin glanced at his cousin, but Merimac's eyes were still closed, his breathing soft. He pricked his ears but there was no sound except the wind that whistled through the holes in the building. Paladin shook his head and let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. His fatigue was playing tricks on him. Slowly and with a last suspicious look around the loft, Paladin leaned back against the wall and, once more, started to hum.

Again Paladin heard the strange accompaniment. This time he jumped to his feet and looked about wildly. There was someone singing besides him. "Who's there?" he called into the darkness. He was answered by a low grumble from Merimac and mice hastily disappeared into a crack in the opposite corner.

Paladin's heart was in his mouth. All his senses were alert and there was a tingling on the back of his neck; a warning of - something. It sent cold shivers down his spine. Fear clutched him with icy claws and he swayed with the violence of the emotion.

"Who's there?" he called again, voice trembling. This time only silence answered him and Paladin almost wished Merimac would waken and tell him to stop shouting in the middle of the night. But Mac did not stir. Even the pony stood motionless. The very air stood still, its weight heavy on Paladin's shoulders. What kind of place was this?

As if in reply to his unasked question, Paladin remembered a rhyme he used to recite as a child; a story, told by the fireside to frighten the youngest and excite the bolder faunts.

Black Lake's water dark as night,
Black Lake's water has seldom seen light.
Black Lake's water only seen by a few,
Black Lake's water brings ruin to you.
Black Lake's water with its Mistress fair,
Who's ventured in forever stays there.

Paladin first gasped, then shuddered. The Lay of the Black Lake was an ancient legend of Tookland because, it was said, the lake was seen more often in that region than anywhere else in the Shire.

Paladin immediately darted to the window. He hesitated for a second and then stuck his head out. The lake's water was indeed uncommonly dark, as if the shadows of the surrounding trees had darkened it even more than this black night. Its surface churned under the falling rain and the wind that bowed the branches of nearby trees and stroked its fingers across the water. Paladin shivered as he looked out upon the scene.

Suddenly, he saw a figure standing in the middle of the lake with its back on him. In the darkness, Paladin could not discern more than the figure's shape, but then its hair, grey in the darkness, caught the wind and Paladin saw that it was a lady. Transfixed, he watched her. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as rainwater dripped onto his forehead and ran down his face. Something within him warned him to turn back and flee, but he could not. His hands clutched the window sill, his fingers digging into the decayed wood. She hummed softly - the very tune Paladin had been crooning only moments before. Then she turned and looked up at him with eyes like those of the dead; glassy, grey and cold. Her face was terror and despair to anyone who beheld it.

Paladin felt his blood run cold. With a sharp intake of breath, he pushed himself away from the window and stumbled backwards. Pale as a sheet and trembling like a leaf, he tripped over his cousin who awoke with a yelp. A cold shock of fear shivered through his body. It drove the air from his lungs and stilled his heart. He couldn't even draw enough air to cry out as he fell stiffly to the floor and to his awaiting doom.

"Have you no eyes?!" Merimac blustered and rubbed at his arm with an expression of annoyance and pain. "Goodness, Pal!"

A moment later, Paladin came to to find his cousin shaking him worriedly. He did not dare to open his eyes for fear of seeing that ugly face again. He did not trust the voice either. She had sung the tune he had been humming. Who knew what other tricks she could play his mind?

"Are you all right? You look as if you have seen a ghost." At that, Paladin did open his eyes and looked into the concerned face of his young cousin. For a split second, he studied it as if he had never seen Merimac before. Then he got to his feet and hurried down the ladder.

"Get the pony saddled," he told his cousin. "We're to leave this place immediately."

Merimac hesitated. "It's still raining."

"Now, Merimac!" Paladin demanded and the sternness in his voice brooked no opposition. Without further delay but with even more concerned an expression than before, Merimac followed his cousin down the ladder and helped him bridle the pony.

The hinges protested as the door creaked open to allow the two hobbits out into the rain again. Merimac complained and fired questions at him, but Paladin pressed on, leading the gelding into the forest without once looking back.

Only in the early hours before dawn did he finally dare to breathe easy again and slacken their pace. The rain had stopped, but the cold made them shake violently. Thin streams of warm breath danced before their faces. Their fingers and toes were stiff, their noses and cheeks red from the chill. Mist hung in the brushwood, a sea of cloud rising about them, hemming them in and depressing their already forlorn spirits further. It was Merimac who broke the long silence by demanding an explanation for Paladin's precipitous acts which had caused them to once again be soaked to the bones.

Paladin did not give his reasons at once. Merimac had never mentioned a sense of unease in that shed. Why, he had even managed sleep! Neither had he seen the lady in the lake as they departed that dreadful place. Paladin had not dared to look at the water, but Mac had even suggested going back the same way they had come last night. Paladin had not complied.

"Have you ever heard The Lay of the Black Lake?" he asked. Merimac shook his head. "It's an ancient legend, but it is told as a children's story to keep the younglings from wandering too far from home. It says that somewhere in a glade surrounded by large trees is a small lake of dark water. It is inviting to passers-by on hot summer days because one end is shallow and cool, but the other banks are sheer and the water beyond the shallows is deep and cold. It is said whomever submits to the temptation to swim and ventures into the water can never come out again. Legend is that a fairy was drowned in the lake and became the Mistress of it. She holds the life that comes into her dead waters because she longs for the one that was taken from her. But all she does is bring more death into her prison. But the lake is not bound to one place. It has been seen in many parts of the Shire, most frequently in the Tooklands, but it isn't something you can find by looking for it. The lake, or rather its Mistress, finds you." Paladin shuddered. "I think, tonight that foul Mistress found us."

"But we're still alive." Merimac rolled his eyes at him. "Stop pulling my leg, Pal. I'm not a little cousin anymore that you can frighten with an eerie story."

"It's no story!" Paladin insisted with irritation. "I've seen her, Mac, and I hope I will never have to see anything like her again."

"You were dreaming, that's all!" Merimac threw his hands into the air, startling the pony. "And I spent the night in the cold and rain because of it!"

Paladin glared at him, stopping short. "You've heard of Hildifons, haven't you?"

"Another story of yours?" Merimac asked sarcastically.

"He was my grandfather's brother," Paladin explained. "Ask anyone in my family, or even look at the genealogies. They say that 'he went off on a journey and never returned.'" Paladin started pacing again. "But there are some that say he never went away, or that he never got further than the forests in the south. There, they say, he came across a lake and took a little dip…."

"Great!" Merimac growled, not concealing his irritation. "More fanciful Tooks with nightmares!"

Paladin suppressed an urge to punch his cousin, took a tighter hold on the reins and, with a last uncertain glance over his shoulder, marched silently on.

~*~*~

Gold and red sparkled through the haze of the first pale light of morning, swirling and rustling in the wind. Wine-coloured leaves glided to the ground beside yellow ones, entangled in a silent dance. Mosses and earth were covered with a blanket of fading life.

Paladin and Merimac sat once more on the skewbald gelding, both wrapped tightly in cloaks given to them by Paladin's father and Berti, the old farmhand. Berti rode on one side of them, Adalgrim on the other. Their next-door neighbour Ferdinand and his dog followed close behind.

Paladin was dead tired. The mare had run home after all, and after a brief recounting of the past couple of hours, he had fallen silent. His eyelids began to droop and he started awake, dimly aware of his father speaking. Merimac answered him, but Paladin could not hear their words. The world darkened and again he started awake. This time, however, he heard old Berti's voice.

"Nay, Master Merimac, there ain't no lakes 'round here and that's a fact."

In spite of his weariness, Paladin smiled at those words. He looked over his shoulder to see a doubtful frown on his cousin's face, the silent question unasked on his lips. Foolish Brandybuck! Next time, perhaps he would think twice when speaking so lightly of 'fanciful nightmares'.

~THE END~