A/N: Written for a hobbit_ficathon challenge on LJ

Least Expected

The air was too warm and still, and Merry was practically asleep on his feet by the time he found the shade of the willow tree. It was his responsibility to lead his friends through the forest, and so far it had not been going as well as he had expected. The forest was sprawling and always changing, and it seemed that no matter which direction he chose it was always the wrong one. Perhaps a rest would do them all some good, and allow him to find his bearings.

It was cooler beneath the branches of the willow, and Merry called for the others. Pippin followed, and together they slumped at the base of the tree, but Frodo protested (Merry’s mind was too muddled to understand what his cousin was saying) and Sam was nowhere in sight.

As he drifted between wakefulness and sleep, Merry barely noticed Frodo wander away, muttering to himself. Beside him Pippin was already fast asleep, snoring gently and practically curled into the tree itself. Merry yawned and nodded off, feeling sleep draw him away from the waking world.

When Merry opened his eyes again all he saw was utter darkness. At first he thought it was nighttime, but the air was even closer and more oppressive than before, and when he called for his cousins he heard Pippin’s muffled, panicky voice beside him, followed by a cruel voice whispering in his ears.

Well, Merry thought, his drowsiness fading into dread. I hadn’t expected this.