Dearest Merry,

Let’s get straight to the point, shall we? I know you dislike boring details…

“I like this style much better,” Merry smiled. “Always thought old Uncle Frodo’s writings were too full of flowers and poetry and whatnot. Didn’t know he could cut to the chase.”

“Boy, he really nailed you, Merry,” Pippin laughed.

“Oh, stop blathering and read the letter, Mer,” Goldilocks interrupted.

He cleared his throat and continued.

…Your gift is not in the chest. Unless your father has moved it, your gift is hanging on the wall to the left of the window….

Merry stopped reading and everyone looked at that spot. On the wall, to the left of the little round window, was a sword mounted upon a wooden holder. It gleamed softly in the afternoon light.

“Hmmm…” Merry pondered. “Now that’s something REALLY useful!”

“Merry,” Goldilocks whined, “finish reading the letter!”

“All right, all right already,” he complained, then cleared his throat again.

…I leave you my old Elvish sword, Sting. As you probably know, it was found in the orc caverns inside the Misty Mountains by my Uncle Bilbo during his great adventure documented in the tale, “There and Back Again.” Bilbo passed Sting on to me, as its strength and sharpness and ability to glow blue when orcs are around proved most useful to me. Your father also used it briefly during our adventures, much to my eternal gratitude and a few orc’s eternal damnation. Neither of us would have survived without the faithful service of this blade.

You will need it in your career as Shiriff and Border Patrol Captain….

“I’m going to be Captain?” Merry again stopped. “I thought Freddy was next in line.”

“Merry, come on. Don’t stop. Finish reading!” Bilbo said.

“All right.” Merry again cleared his throat.

…and Border Patrol Captain. Wear it with pride and treat it with the great dignity and honor it deserves. If you treat it with respect, it will never dull nor loose its magic. But be warned. Keep it out of the reach of your children. Your son will be sorely tempted to test his little fingers on its sharp edges.

With great respect and admiration,
Your Uncle Frodo

“My son?” Merry handed the paper to Bilbo who was sitting nearby. “Ruby. You said Lil couldn’t have any more children. You said she…”

“Merry,” Ruby interrupted, and climbed to her swollen feet, “don’t you think we should keep this talk private? I mean, I don’t think Lil would appreciate the rest of the family hearing about her female problems. All right?” She took her brother by the arm and walked him over to the sword hanging on the wall. “We can talk about that later. Right now I think everyone’s waiting for you to claim your gift.”

Merry flushed a bright red in embarrassment at his own words. Frodo came up to his brother and put an arm around his shoulders. “Maybe you’ll get that son after all,” he whispered. “Now go ahead, take up your sword.”

Merry hesitated to claim his prize. He always assumed the legendary Sting had been sent back to the Mathom House in Micheldelving and was off limits to visitors. He didn’t realize it was in Bag End all these years. Now it was his. Freely given by its master. But Merry experienced a sudden reluctance to touch it and claim it.

“What’s wrong, Merry?” Ruby asked.

“What… what if it is jinxed?” he whispered. “If I claim it, maybe it’s magic might allow Lil and me to have another baby. A son. But… but what if it ends up killing her, like you said? You told me she would probably die if she became pregnant again. I can’t … I mean, I can’t risk that, Ruby. I can’t. Not my Lil.” Tears welled up in the normally-jocular hobbit’s soft brown eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I suggest you finish reading the letter,” Bilbo said. All eyes turned to him. He was holding out the letter to his brother. “It has a post script.”

Merry snatched the paper out of Bilbo’s hand. He read it silently, then gave it to Ruby. With a determined grim set to his mouth, Merry walked back over to the sword and unfastened it from its mount. The sensuous intaglio etched into the blade caught a stray sunbeam, and the weapon flashed a dangerous signal. Merry smiled, and retrieved the scabbard from the wall, putting it on in the manner of one born to the sword. Sting flashed once more as Merry sheathed it.

“What’s it say, Ruby?” Primrose asked.

Ruby smiled. “It says, ‘P.S. She will be fine.’ That’s it.”

Brothers and sisters gathered around Merry, slapping his back and congratulating him on both his magnificent gift and on his impending fatherhood. Ruby was the only one who did not shake his hand. She went back to the reading chair and settled her pregnant frame into a somewhat comfortable position.

“I hope you’re right, Uncle Frodo,” she whispered to herself. “I do hope you are right.”