Strider led the Halflings to a small, overshadowed patch of earth that would not have offered slumber for the four upon first setting off from Bree. Now, three days, and little rest later, the hard ground drew sleep from them.

Sam lay down to the left of Frodo, and Merry to his right. Pippin squeezed between Frodo and Merry, and slept almost immediately. After Merry was sure the others were asleep, he gently sat up. This would be quite a task for anyone, wriggling from a hobbit pileup. He managed to slip out with a small mumble from Frodo that was something to the affect of "lay still!" Of course, there was something that had been on Merry's mind since Bree. Something he had to take care of.

Strider felt a light tap on his shoulder and turned to face the young hobbit. Merry took a seat next to him. "Thank you, Strider." He said, whispering.

Strider smiled back, perplexed.

"Well, you know, we would never have made it out of Bree, let alone this far, without you." His voice rose in volume a little, and Sam turned in his sleep. "And I'm sorry. For not trusting you." He glanced up at Strider, blushing under the shadow of impending darkness. He was not accustomed to apologies, especially when they were not required of him by his elders.

Pippin sat bolt upright in bed, followed by a moan from Sam. "Can't anyone keep that lad still?" Sam said, rolling over.

"Well anyway, thanks." Merry stood up and took the few steps back to their small camp leaving Strider back on guard. The sun had set completely now. Strider looked over at the hobbits. He turned back to the endless expanse of land before them and whispered into the night, "You're welcome."