Title:  This Rider of Rohan

Summary:  "It's not always a misfortune being overlooked," said Merry.  "I was overlooked just now by—no, no, I can't speak of it…"  Merry faces the Witch-King of Angmar

A/N:  It's short.  A one-shot fic.  Sorry it took me so long to come up with something new.  Big thanks to shirebound, Baylor, Budgielover, PipkinSweetgrass, Marigold, and Pippinfan1988 (I didn't realize you were UofJC!  Hi!  ~grin~) for your great reviews on my other fics.  Hope you like this one too.

Disclaimer:  Not mine.

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Merry silently choked on his tears as held his sword close to him.  Barely breathing, he crawled closer and closer to the abomination before him.  He had disobeyed his King and failed him in battle.  He had failed the man he had sworn to serve.  A sob stuck in his throat as he thought of his King laying dead in the field.  He had never had a King before.  He almost giggled at the absurdity of the thought, but stopped himself just in time.  It wouldn't do for that…thing…to hear him.  Then it would all be in vain.

Theoden, King, was dead.  ”As a father you were to me,"  he remembered.  Merry blinked his eyes furiously against the tears that threatened to fall and continued to crawl on his stomach towards the Nazgul.  He hated to look at it, but he had to.  For her.  She was fighting so bravely to avenge her uncle, and her tears of hatred were almost blinding her.  He mustn't let her die alone.  If he were also to die, then he would do his level best to take that creature with him!  He smiled grimly at the thought and crawled closer.  What good could he possibly do?  A horrible stench passed over him and he almost gagged.  Oh, if only he could keep quiet!  He mustn't be heard, or else it would all be for nothing!  He lay there trembling for a moment, his fear almost overwhelming him.  Very soon now, that beast would turn, see him, and destroy him!  Merry forced himself to relax and inched even closer, holding his sword so tight that his fingers were numb.  She was depending on him, he thought, though she may not have known it.  He marveled as she swung her sword and held her shield high.  She fought so valiantly!  She must know she couldn't defeat it, it was too powerful for her!  Merry gazed in awe as her armor glistened in the sun.  He mustn't let her die alone!  He had to finish this!  For her.

He was close enough.  Merry looked at his sword one last time.  It was such a small weapon.  What could it do against such hideous hate?  He was so small himself.  What could he possibly do to change the final outcome, the defeat that was sure to come?  He thought briefly of Isengard, and wondered if possibly, his luck just might hold.  Inwardly he sighed and braced himself for the inevitable.  They were all going to die.  He knew it, she knew it, the King had known it, and most of all, that thing knew it.  But still he had to try.  For Frodo.  For Pippin.  And for the Shire.

He didn’t want to die.  He wanted to see home one last time.  He wanted to sing one more drinking song with Pippin, and say goodbye to Frodo and Sam.  He wanted to do so many things before the end.  Tears gathered in his eyes and he adjusted his grip on the sword.  He was terrified.  This would be only a pinprick, a mere annoyance, like the bite of a single ant.  And like an ant, he would be crushed.  He grimaced.  So be it.  He had been overlooked thus far.  Merry looked up at the dark, malevolent shadow towering above him, gripped his sword tight, and stabbed!