Movie-verse! Okay, so I just rewatched Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers for the fifty trillionth time, and it occurred to me how much I love Merry and Pippin. Plus I realized that Snaga (the orc that was trying to stab Merry in Fangorn) had like fifteen full seconds in which he could've stabbed him and didn't. And when Treebeard dropped them they practically floated happily to the ground. Plus I wondered what would have happened if it had been Saruman instead of Gandalf. So...voila! This story. :)

Warning: I suffer from FCMD, and I forgot to take my meds when I wrote this. ;) FCMD = Favorite Character Mutilation Disorder. I'm sorry, Merry! And Pippin!

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I probably don't own these ideas either. But whatevs.

Part I

Poisoning

It was colder than usual. There was a gentle breeze, pushing a few loose blonde curls into his face. If he had been anywhere else, if his hands hadn't been bound, he might have reached up and brushed his hair out of his eyes. But now he simply sighed. His hope felt watered down. All of his senses felt watered down – even his hungry stomach. The biting of his hunger had lowered to a dull ache.

He turned his head slightly. Pippin was on the back of an orc beside him. Pippin looked just as bored as he was; but Merry could tell that Pippin was still hopeful. Merry had to look away. Just as he could tell by a quick glance into Pippin's eyes that Pippin was filled with hope, he realized that Pippin could tell how hopeless Merry felt, and that would bring Pippin down if he saw.

Abruptly, the pack of orcs stopped. A sudden sense of weightlessness clutched Merry's stomach, and then he slammed into the ground, hard. If he hadn't already been numb, he might have winced. But he was too far past feeling pain. After so many days and nights of soreness and his lack of hope, there was nothing left for him to feel.

"We're not goin' no further," shouted the orc that had carried Merry, "till we've had a breather!" Merry silently agreed. He'd rather lie half-dead on the ground than be jostled about half-dead on the back of an orc.

Another orc, the leader, yelled, "Get a fire going!" The orcs all around began to swarm, doing various things. Merry gazed up at the night sky, watching the stars. Usually watching the stars brought him a sense of calm. But tonight, they made him angry. How could the stars be so carefree as to flit about, twinkling happily, in the sky?

A group of orcs galumphed past Merry. He watched them, bored again. They were hurrying into a cluster of trees. Merry stared at the trees for several seconds, trying to figure out where they were. He fuzzily recalled a map he'd seen once…forest…forest…ah, that was it. They were right beside Fangorn Forest. Merry swallowed and shifted to make himself more comfortable, shifted onto his side; he'd heard rumors about the trees being alive in Fangorn Forest…

"Merry!" Merry snapped his head toward Pippin. Pippin was crawling toward Merry, bonds making him unable to actually crawl – no, he wasn't crawling, he was dragging himself. Merry closed his eyes briefly, unable to face how pathetic Pippin looked, with his ragged hair and torn clothes and dirty face. "Merry!"

"Pippin," Merry answered, as Pippin came right up to his face. "I think we might have made a mistake in leaving the Shire, Pippin." He hadn't been able to help himself. He had to tell Pippin what he thought about this. They were never going to get out of here. They were going to die under torture, in Isengard.

Pippin tried to grin – he was probably going to play off Merry's words, brush them away, ignore them. He only ever did that when he knew that whoever he was trying not to heed was right. Merry shook his head the slightest bit.

Sounds of loud thumps came from in front of them, from the forest. The orcs were chopping down the trees. Merry swallowed again, fear rising up within him; what if those rumors were true? What if the trees really were alive? Just as he thought it, loud moans like creaking trees came from Fangorn. Pippin blurted, "What's making that noise?"

Merry moved his weight so he was leaning on his elbows. He had to see this. He wanted to see these orcs crushed by those trees. Wait…what was he thinking? Those were just rumors, weren't they? But as more orcs chopped, more groans came. "It's the trees," Merry whispered.

"What?"

Merry glanced quickly down at Pippin, instantly annoyed. "Remember the old forest, on the borders of Buckland? Folks used to say there was something in the woods that made the trees grow tall…and come alive."

"Alive?"

"Trees that could whisper…talk to each other. Even…move."

Pippin and Merry stared at each other. Merry's numbness was fading into excitement. Perhaps, though, it should have been horror. They had no idea what these talking trees could do to them. They had no idea what these talking trees wanted to do to them.

An orc interrupted the hobbits' conversation. "I'm starving!" he hollered. "We ain't had nothing but maggoty bread for three stinking days!"

Another agreed. "Yeah," he said loudly. "Why can't we have some meat?" Merry wouldn't have taken notice of the random conversation between the orcs if the bluish one's eyes hadn't alighted upon them at that very moment. "What 'bout them? They're fresh."

Merry immediately looked at the orc, horrified. But the leader orc, Uglúk, walked over, coming to their rescue. "They are not for eating." Merry and Pippin exchanged relieved looks. Out of the corner of his eye Merry saw the bluish orc twisting his head slightly, cracking his neck, still considering them.

Suddenly, something descended from above and snatched up Merry and Pippin at the same time. Merry let out a shocked exclamation right as Pippin did. Then he realized that the orc was pulling them away from the starved ones. But there were more, pressing in closer. One put in, "What 'bout their legs? They don't need those."

Merry glanced down. He liked his legs, he liked them very much. The orc that had picked them up released them, leaving them standing there, facing a crowd of meat-hungry orcs, bound. "Ooh, they look tasty!" The orc threw himself at the two hobbits. Merry flinched. Pippin stumbled backward slightly.

"Back off, Snaga!" shouted Uglúk, shoving him backward. But the others were getting restless, shifting about, reaching for their weapons. Merry felt nervous butterflies attempting to climb out his throat. "The prisoners go to Saruman – alive, and unspoiled!"

"Alive?" Snaga responded. Merry wasn't sure if that was the orc's name or just a put-down from Uglúk. It didn't matter either way, though, because Snaga was stepping toward the gap between the shoulders of two orcs that had come to stand in front of Merry and Pippin. "Why alive? Do they give good sport?"

"They have something," Uglúk tried to explain. "An Elvish weapon. Master wants it for the war." All the orcs around Merry and Pippin were snarling, saliva dripping from their mouths; Merry stepped closer to Pippin, unable to disguise his fear.

Pippin pressed his face closer to Merry's ear. "They think we have the Ring!"

"Shh!" Merry hissed. "As soon as they find out we don't, we're dead!"

There was a new sound from directly behind them. Pippin and Merry whirled around. The blue orc was lifting his weapon. "Just a mouthful – a bit off the flank!"

Then everything was moving too fast for Merry to comprehend. Uglúk sliced the head off the orc that had been attempting to eat the hobbits, and then the head came down, hitting Merry's shoulder. Merry twitched. Uglúk shouted, "Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!" The other orcs cheered, and they all dove in at once to get their fair share of the dead blue orc. Merry and Pippin were shoved to the ground.

Pippin twisted to look back and watch. Merry had something else in mind. "Pippin!" he whispered. "Let's go!" They began to drag themselves, crawling in that odd and pathetic fashion, toward Fangorn, away from the orcs. The ones that had been in the trees had exited, wanting some meat as well.

A foot slammed into Merry's back. He cried out, both surprised that one had caught them and scared that he was really going to get eaten now. The orc rolled him over, and Pippin turned over at the same time, to see what was going on. "Go – call for help!" Snaga exclaimed bitterly. He grabbed Merry's face and pulled him up toward him, raising a knife. "Squeal; no one's going to save you now." Merry started to whimper. He was going to die, right here and right now.

Then Snaga fell away, an arrow piercing him. Merry and Pippin both looked up, confused but grateful. Horses rode through, men on their backs throwing arrows and spears. Merry was separated from Pippin in the madness. "Pippin!" he blurted.

But even more chaos ensued. More horses charged, more orcs ran, and for half a second Merry could've sworn he heard Pippin scream in terror; out of nowhere, Pippin appeared, untied. Pippin quickly untied Merry and helped him to his feet. The duo began to run, trying to reach the forest. They dodged men, orcs, horses; and just as they were about to reach freedom, Merry was stopped in his tracks.

Snaga was still alive. He was reaching up from the ground. "The belt!" yelled Pippin. Merry quickly undid his belt, and they raced onward. Pippin lagged behind for half a second. "Run," Merry said, and they disappeared into the darkness of Fangorn.

They ran for several seconds more, until Pippin tripped and landed on the ground. Merry flopped down beside him, exhausted, even from that short sprint. They sat there panting. Pippin asked, "Did we lose him?"

"I think we lost him," Merry responded.

The sounds of rustling from nearby reached their ears. Merry had begun to grin. He lost his grin the instant he saw Snaga, yet again, stumbling out from behind a clump of bushes. "I'm going to rip out your filthy innards!" Snaga exclaimed angrily. Merry and Pippin started to run again, ducking behind a tree. "Come here!" Snaga yelled. He sounded closer. The two hobbits started to run again.

Merry heard Snaga coming even closer. "Trees," Merry said, shoving Pippin toward the nearest one. "Climb a tree!" He waited for Pippin to climb up to a higher branch before following; he paused to glance around them on a lower one. "He's gone," Merry said, smiling, relieved.

Of course, Snaga chose that moment to return.

Merry squealed as he was pulled from the tree branch to the ground. His breath was knocked out of him. Snaga loomed over him, anger written all over his ugly face. Merry kicked him in the nose, and Snaga turned toward him, looking even angrier. Merry tried to pull backwards. "Merry!" Pippin hollered from the tree.

Finally, Snaga was done with the chase. He grabbed Merry's left leg and threw his knife away. He opened his mouth – Merry screamed – and Snaga bit down, hard. But before he could rip a chunk of Merry's leg off, out of nowhere, a huge tree-foot came down and smashed Snaga into the ground.

"Run, Merry!" screeched Pippin. Merry struggled to his feet. Pain was coursing through him; did orcs have poison saliva? But Merry fought to run away from the tree, half-running, half-hopping. He tried to avoid putting weight on his injured leg. Every time he put weight on it, a spasm of agony zipped up his spine. It was almost a relief when a large tree-hand scooped him up.

The tree began to babble, but Merry wasn't focusing on that. For one thing, it was a tree. A tree was talking to them. A tree! For another, his bitten leg was burning; it felt as though flames were tearing at him. The only thing he could possibly focus on was the pain clawing at him. It was so bad he thought he was going to vomit all over the tree's huge bearded face.

He could feel, through the haze of pain, Pippin's concerned eyes on him. Then the tree began to squeeze them, harder and harder, tighter and tighter – Merry heard Pippin squeaking – he heard himself crying out – his leg felt as though it was being shredded to pieces – it hurt so bad –

"Merry!" shouted Pippin. "Put us down! Put us down! We're hobbits, not orcs!"

The tree was bellowing now. Pippin was trying to shout over the sound. "We're hobbits, Halflings, from the Shire!" Merry closed his eyes, gripping the tree's big hand, trying to fight through wave upon wave of pain. Why wouldn't he black out?

Because he had to be here. He had to help Pip.

Merry flung his eyes open. "I swear we're not orcs," he yelled. "I – gah -" for a moment, he thought he wouldn't be able to finish. The moment passed. " – why would an orc have been trying to kill me and have bitten me if we were orcs!"

"Merry, it bit you?" Pippin exclaimed. He started to pound on the tightly curled fist of the tree. "Put – us – down!"

And then, it did.

"We shall ask the White Wizard if you are orcs," the tree creaked. Merry landed in an awkward position on the same leg that had been bitten; Merry screamed; a sickening crack rent the air. Pippin landed on one of his arms, and there was another crack, but Pippin held in his own cry of pain.

The two hobbits lifted their heads at the same time. The flash of white light was so bright that Merry closed his eyes, and that was all the instruction his body needed. He dropped to the ground and fell into welcome unconsciousness.