Disclaimer: I own nothing, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done.
Whispers in the Dark
By Elendiari

“Merry?”
Merry groaned and opened his eyes. Luminous green ones peered back at him, almost touching his face, and the young hobbit jumped before recognizing just whom they belonged to.
“Pippin!” he said, managing to moan and grumble at the same time. “What are you doing out of bed?”
Pippin, ignoring the sound of his older cousin’s annoyance, climbed up into Merry’s warm bed, and Merry, as always, moved over to make room for him.
“I’m worried about Frodo,” Pippin said. “Do you think he’ll get back to Hobbiton safely in all this rain?”
“Yes, Pip,” Merry said. “Most likely, he’s curled up nice and cozy in an inn somewhere, dreaming about elves and new books. You don’t have to worry. Go to sleep.”
Pippin nodded and curled up against his cousin. Outside, lightning flashed and thunder roared, but inside Brandy Hall, the two hobbits lay curled up, asleep and warm.
Not ten miles away, Frodo Baggins, only twenty eight years old, lay wrapped in a big blanket in the Merry Widow Inn, dreaming of summer and dancing on the banks of the Brandywine with his parents in the sunshine. A small, happy smile graced his face.