Merry sat back with a sigh. It had taken four years to finish, and at the end, he had more questions than he had when he began. But the Annals were complete.

There had been another visit to Rivendell, thankfully shorter than the first. And there had been numerous letters to Gondor and to Rohan and even to Erebor. The Annals of the First Age were not here. He had left those with Erestor on his last visit there, so that the Elf could go over them for any errors Merry might have made, as those were based almost entirely on Erestor’s notes. He would retrieve them, he thought, on another visit. Celandine was already at work on copying the volumes of the Second and Third Ages. The copies would go to Bag End and the Great Smials when they were finished.

This was a mighty work, and he felt it would make Frodo proud. But life was moving on. Wyn had surprised him two years ago when she married Hending Greenhill, Fastred’s cousin. Last year Fam had wed Sam’s daughter Goldilocks, and this year Merry’s sweet baby Nephredil would marry Merry Gamgee in the late spring. Even more satisfying was the knowledge that Perry had finally settled into courting Primrose Took, and there might well be more than one wedding this year.

He had been very busy over the last four years, between his family and his writing and his duties as Master. But now the writing was finished. Perhaps he’d take more time for his herb garden, or take some quiet days fishing on the River. After all, a hobbit couldn’t spend all his days scribbling away.

But he took up the letter he’d recently received from Rohan. It seemed that some of the more rustic Rohirrim used the word “smygels” to describe a burrow. Now that word, he thought, is not too far off from “smial”…