Title: Captured By Uruks
Author: Faust
Email: goblinarcher93@yahoo.com
Rating: R, for non-consensual
Warning: This is slash. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns these heavenly creatures, not I.
Summary: Merry and Pippin are captured by Uruks. AU of what might have happened to them during that time.
*****
The daylight was waning over the valley as the thundering company of Uruk- hai passed through, hastily making their way toward Isengard. Through fen and glade they tromped, hour after hour, their heavy jackboots disturbing the soft earth and trampling every leaf and blade of grass in their path. A few of the Uruks were visibly showing signs of fatigue, but their lagging paces were continually checked by the smart crack of the captain's whip against their calves or heels. They had been traveling in this manner for more than a day without rest. On the backs of two Uruks were slung their burden, their spoils for Saruman to aid him in his war. This is all they knew about the pair of hobbits they carried.
"Bring the halflings to me," the wizard had said. "Alive, and unspoiled. Kill the others and leave none to escape."
And so they hunted the halflings and their party for several days through the dense woodlands until finally they were able to track them to Parth Galen, near the river. Fiercely the company fought against the Uruks, and they managed to fell nearly half of them in the battle, but once the Man from Gondor was brought down the halflings were quickly seized. Fearing for themselves and for each other the two hobbits were slung over the backs of the towering Uruks and carried off, roughly knocked and jostled about like heavy sacks of grain.
Merry found himself terrified beyond all words at first. In his panic he tried desperately to keep a constant eye on Pippin in the crowd of beasts; poor Pippin, he looked so frail and helpless hanging down the back of a large sweaty brown Uruk a few feet ahead. He looked lifeless to Merry and so small compared to his captor, dangling there like a dead fish, being battered about in a ragged black sea of bobbing heads. The Uruk that carried Merry was unusually large, even for an Uruk, with blackened skin and a coat of jagged leather armor that left his arms exposed. Arms that were, Merry noticed with a lump of nausea in his throat, roughly the size of tree trunks and rippling with grime-stained muscles.
Horrible, panicked thoughts raced around in his mind for the first half of the day as he was repeatedly banged against the Uruk's back, barely aware of the blurred countryside that was whooshing past as the beasts clamored their way through meadow and stream. He could not imagine where they were taking he and Pippin, or what waited there for them. But the thought that plagued his mind the worst was what had become of the rest of the Fellowship. He had watched in horror as Boromir was slain before his very eyes. Merry had screamed through eyes full of tears as he brandished his small sword and charged at the nearest Uruk, but instead of running the fell creature through with his blade he felt himself scooped up and carried away, hanging helplessly down the back of his captor to watch the world grow smaller as it fell away behind them. The last sight he had seen was that of Aragorn, swinging his sword at a pair of Uruks and shouting to Legolas for help. For all he now knew Aragorn and Legolas, and Gimli too, were lying dead and bleeding on a bed of pine needles back at Parth Galen. This thought was unbearable to him. He reminded himself that Frodo had escaped at least, and it gave him some hope and comfort to know the Ring was still traveling. He tried to hum a Shire tune to calm his nerves, but in his frightened state he could not think of a single song or poem.
Eventually as the sun wore down and the evening crept in Merry felt himself growing limp with exhaustion. His arms were aching from supporting his weight all day but he found the more he relaxed and let his body slacken the more he was flopped around against the rough leather tunic upon which he lay. The tunic was made of roughly cut sections of dark brown leather, pieced together and held by many small metal grommets that had a slightly pointed head. These dug into Merry's arms and elbows and his chest, hundreds of tiny blunt stabs each time he jounced against the Uruk's back. In spite of this his eyes finally became heavy but he struggled to keep awake, not wanting to lose sight of Pippin. For the entire length of the day he had not seen Pippin stir or even move his head. Merry choked back a sob. He had wanted so badly to call to him, to see his head snap around and at least give a sign that he was well and aware, but he hadn't dared try. He was flanked on all sides by grunting, snorting Uruks that were already giving him far too many stares as they trotted heavily alongside him. Despite his anxiety sleep overcame Merry eventually, though he found himself jerked awake frequently, filled with despair each time the realization of where he was returned to him. His dreams were dark and fitful, and at one point he woke with a start and had to catch himself from screaming Pippin's name, though he could not remember what he had been dreaming about.
As the Uruks marched endlessly through the night, a night longer than any Merry had ever experienced, the sky finally began to glow in the East and bring the first signs of a new day. His arms were numb by now, and he had lost all feeling in his chest where it had repeatedly slapped against the rows of tiny grommets. He wondered if they would ever stop for a rest. Even Uruk-hai need to rest, don't they? he thought to himself, although apparently they did not as they had run all the previous day and throughout the night without stopping once. Merry longed to just stretch his legs and walk around a bit, and perhaps have a bite of food as well. He felt ravenous although he knew any food the Uruks carried would be inedible, if they even offered any to him.
The day wore on much like the last, except the pain in Merry's arms was now excruciating. He wanted to cry out for them to stop, beg them to stop, just long enough to rub his arms and see if Pippin was alright. But he could tell they were in a desperate hurry to bring the hobbits to their destination, wherever that was, and he knew they had no intention of stopping. The captain of the company gave countless licks of his whip to any Uruk who lagged behind. Merry expected he would do the same to him if he begged them to stop, even if only for a moment. Around midday Merry noticed the Uruk carrying Pippin had fallen back a little, and was now almost beside him. His heart leaped into his throat when he saw this and he craned his neck forward to catch a glimpse of Pippin's face, but all he could see was an old trickle of blood dried on the side of his cheek. At the sight of this he began to sob, hoarsely whispering Pippin's name over to him, not caring anymore who heard him. But neither Pippin nor the Uruks seemed to notice.
The afternoon droned hot and humid, causing the stench of the Uruks to rise to an unbearable pitch. Merry felt like he was bobbing on a rough black ocean of rotting meat and filthy sweat, causing him to gag several times. He always tried hard not to look at them, but sometimes it was unavoidable as he hung there in the midst of the horde. It did not help that the Uruk who bore him had spiny bristles like a boar on the back of his neck just below the rim of his crude helm. Merry tried hard to look at the trees blurring by instead, or occupy his mind by trying to name the different flowers that smeared past his vision, but his gaze always managed to fall on one hulking iron-clad beast or another. He especially tried not to look at their awful jagged teeth. He had heard that Orcs and Uruks will eat anything, even each other, and being so close to them now he believed it. He was sure beyond any doubt that they would never pass up a bit of hobbit if they had the chance. He wondered if they would have that chance soon.
Without warning the company suddenly came to a stop. Merry's head whipped about in alarm. The captain had raised a fist and the rest of the Uruks halted behind him as he surveyed the valley surrounding them, sniffing the air.
"What is it?" said the Uruk behind him. "What do you smell?"
The captain bared his teeth and snarled. "Man-flesh!" he roared. "We're being tracked!"
Merry felt elated for the first time in days. Aragorn was following them, he was sure of it. Not only had he survived the battle at the river, but he was coming after them. The company picked up their pace and the halflings were battered about even harder but Merry didn't care. He stifled a joyous laugh. If only he could whisper the good news to Pippin...
Hours passed and the rush of excitement was fading away. Merry's entire body throbbed with agony and his arms felt dislocated from his shoulders. Aragorn could be miles away for all he knew, if it was even Aragorn's scent that they had caught on the wind. Merry hoped beyond hope that it wasn't just a random traveler who happened to be upwind from the Uruks at that moment. His mind continued to turn these things over when at last he had the idea to drop his cloak clasp for Aragorn to find; if it was in fact Aragorn, he would find it and he would know that he and Pippin still lived. The problem now was removing it without using his arms, which were secured around the scratchy black neck of the Uruk before him. He tugged at the little silver-rimmed leaf clasp with his teeth as hard as he could, and after a few small rips it broke apart and came free of the Elven cloak and without pausing he spit it lightly to the ground. To his relief none of the Uruks seemed to notice.
Merry thought about that clasp often over the next several hours, willing Aragorn to find it and hoping the Uruks hadn't mashed it into the earth with their heavy boots. As the dark closed in and the moon rose round and full above them the Uruks started lagging to a halt in a small grassy glade near the edge of Fangorn Forest. Some sat abruptly upon the ground with a growling sigh. Merry felt dread wash through him. Why had they stopped?
"We don't stop here, you maggots!" the captain snarled. "What's all this then?"
"I'm tired!" an Uruk shouted at him. "I can't run no more!"
"I'm starvin'!" roared another.
The company rumbled with sounds of agreement. The captain was obviously displeased but he ordered a fire to be made, and the Uruks that were still standing now came to rest on the grass with great growls and grunting sighs of relief. Merry found himself dumped to the ground right beside Pippin, and without missing a moment he wiggled around to face him. Pippin's eyes were closed but he did not look peaceful. Blood was dried on the side of his face and his brow was knit with worry and fear.
"Pip!" Merry whispered desperately, using both his bound hands to shake his friend. "Pip, it's me!"
Pippin's eyes fluttered slowly open as if they were sore, or afraid of what they would see. "Merry?" he said in a voice so small and frightened that it cleft Merry's heart in two. Merry grabbed Pippin's bound hands in his and held them.
"You alright Pip? Where are you hurt?" He searched his face for the wound that had caused all the blood but couldn't see anything.
Pippin gingerly rubbed his fingertips into his hair at the left temple and winced. "I think one of them hit me... when he took me. I'm not sure. But my head has been hurting ever since."
Merry fought back a wave of tears. "You'll be ok, don't worry," he said, trying to sound comforting and sure of himself. But he was not sure of anything at that moment, and the waver in his voice belied him.
The Uruks began to argue with each other over the rations they had brought. There wasn't enough of their leathery meat and moldy bread to go around and those that got slighted were furious. One of them suggested eating the halflings, and the rest of the company shouted their approval. Merry and Pippin exchanged terrified looks and grasped each other's hands.
"No!" the captain scowled. "They are to be brought to Saruman... alive!" He cracked his whip into the greedy crowd of Uruks eyeing Merry and Pippin. "Back off you dogs!"
'Saruman,' Pippin mouthed wordlessly to Merry, his face contorting with dread. Merry nodded solemnly. So that's where they were going. It all clicked into place in his mind then, and he squeezed Pippin's hands.
"Pip! They think WE have the Ring!" Merry hissed. Pippin's eyes widened.
"Oh n..." Pippin started to shake his head but was suddenly lifted off the ground in front of Merry. A grisly Uruk had him grasped by the back of the neck with one hand and was holding him up at face-level. Instinctively Merry sprang up and began kicking the trunk-like legs of the beast, shouting for him to let Pippin go. The Uruk raised a boot and almost without effort kicked Merry in the stomach and sent him sprawling several yards away. His face skidded across the dewy grass and he smacked his head on part of a large stone jutting out of the earth. As soon as his fall was complete he was on his feet again immediately and spun to attack the huge Uruk once more, but the sight that greeted him as he scrambled to his feet almost sent him sprawling again. The foul reeking beast had his Pippin by the neck and was forcing his black tongue into the halfling's mouth. The other Uruks roared with laughter.
The world swam in front of Merry's eyes. This couldn't be happening. He charged toward them as fast as he could but it seemed as though his legs were mired in molasses and everything was moving in slow motion. He pounded his small fists against the giant's legs as hard as he could, but another kick sent him flying and he landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him. He tried to stand but before he could get his feet under him he felt a grisly hand grab his arm and he was yanked up off the ground by a hunched- over Uruk. The creature grunted with laughter as he shoved him in front of the brute that still held his dear friend, and he anchored his grimy fist in Merry's hair, rendering him a captive audience.
Pippin was writhing in the iron clutch of the Uruk's huge fist, and Merry could hear him trying to scream through the deep soul kiss he was receiving against his will. His cheek bulged slightly where the Uruk's tongue crudely explored the inside of his mouth. Merry heard a high-pitched wailing then, a heart-wrenching scream that he finally realized was ripping from his own throat. They couldn't be doing this to his Pip, they just couldn't. His panic-stricken brain floundered uselessly trying to think of what to do. All the Uruks were gathered around them now, howling with laughter, gnashing their teeth and wailing with excitement. One of them reached out and tore off Pippin's breeches, leaving him in his thin undergarment. The Uruk that held him pulled his mouth away with a leering groan and began ramming his other hand down Pippin's shorts. The other Uruks brayed in approval. Pippin looked at Merry with a look of pure raw horror and dismay.
"Please!" Merry shouted. "Leave him alone! Please! Do it to me instead! Please!"
"N- no, Merry!" Pippin cried, but his words were cut short by the Uruk forcing his tongue inside him once more.
Merry burst into tears. It seemed to him like a ridiculous thing to do at that moment, tears wouldn't help Pippin at all. But he couldn't help it. He forcefully stood there in the Uruk's grasp watching the demented swine before him violating the one person that meant more than anything to him in this world. He wanted to close his eyes, wanted to spare himself the ghastly sight before him, but he could not bear to look away. He felt as though the least he could do for his dear Pip would be to watch and be with him as he suffered; looking away would be abandoning him. He felt as though his stomach was a yawning pit of despair that was threatening to swallow him whole. He felt himself swoon momentarily in the creature's grasp, his mind blurring briefly and he had to struggle against going mad with grief.
"It's ok, Pip!" his voice croaked hoarsely. "It's ok, I'm here!" This made the black horde around them snort and gurgle with fell laughter.
"And what good are you, eh?" bellowed an Uruk that stood next to Merry, jabbing his finger into the hobbit's chest. "A lot of help you are!" The Uruks threw their heads back and howled almost in unison.
Pippin was fighting the undertow of unconsciousness that was trying its best to pull him under; Merry could see it in his face. His eyes were rolling back and his head was lolling, and he was gasping for air. Even in the moonlight Merry could tell his face was turning gray from being grasped by his neck for so long. The Uruk that held him was trying unsuccessfully to use his free hand to tear off the rest of the halfling's clothes, and the other Uruks standing nearby him began to help in their excitement. Wretched black claws tore at Pippin's cloak and jacket, tossing them down onto the grass followed shortly by his shirt and undershorts. Scarred, calloused hands ran down his sides and several ham-fisted Uruks groped between his legs and up his thighs. Merry wanted to be sick.
In his mind at that moment flashed a picture of Pippin's face the first time they had kissed. So young he was then, almost too young for Merry's conscience; but they had just shared a lovely summer's afternoon on the shores of the Brandywine River, eating and talking and finally they had both run out of words and just stared at one another. Merry thought Pippin was the most beautiful creature he had ever known, and with nervous shaking hands he held the boy's face and kissed him, so long and slow and sweet; and Pippin kissed him back. When they pulled away Merry thought he could see the clouds and the sun and sky and all the beauty of the world reflected in Pippin's eyes, heavy-lidded and dreamlike as he stared at Merry so gentle, with such love. Merry knew from that moment on that he would do anything for Pippin.
And now here he was, powerless to save him from suffering. Merry threw himself against the hands that held him back, screaming Pippin's name until he thought his lungs would burst. The more he thrashed around and tried to pull away each time he felt the Uruk tighten his grip. But he didn't care; he was determined not to stop until they let him go, or until he died trying.
A distant noise caught the attention of one of the Uruks near the outside of the ring and he cocked his head, causing a few others around him to do the same. Merry in his grief took little notice of this until the noise sounded again, and this time the Uruks all began to roar in alarm. A horse brayed in the distance, then another. The Uruks scattered furiously to find the direction from which the noise was coming and to ready themselves to fight. Merry and Pippin were both cast aside to the ground; Merry hit the mud with the side of his head and Pippin landed on top of him. Without a second thought Merry scrambled around to grab up Pippin's clothes and snatched him by the arm, dragging him into Fangorn to hide amongst the trees. A rumble of hooves could be heard far away somewhere in the black night, steadily getting nearer.
"Pip! Pip, are you alright?" Merry cried as they slid behind a fallen tree and crawled partially under it. He hastily began helping him put his clothes back on.
Pippin's dirty face ran with tears, leaving little clear streaks in their wake. "Oh, Merry," he sobbed, shaking his head back and forth as he quickly buttoned his shirt, now missing several of the buttons. "Oh Merry, I don't believe this is happening..."
"Sh, it's alright." Both of their hearts were hammering in their chests and Pippin was near hysterics, but Merry fought to be calm for both their sakes. He busied himself untying the harsh ropes that bound each of their hands, and when both of them were free he immediately threw his arms around Pippin and hugged him. Pippin melted into him and wailed. Merry stroked his hair with shaking hands and listened to the sounds of hooves almost upon them, inciting the Uruks to a frenzy of rage and bloodlust just a few yards away beyond the trees. With a sinking heart he noticed the captain's head whipping about, his wicked stare searching the ground, looking for the halflings. He lifted his head and looked into the woods, almost looking right into Merry's eyes it seemed, and he began to walk towards them.
"Pippin, we've got to go, we've got to get out of here." He grabbed Pip by the arm and they scrambled out from behind the fallen tree just in time to see a large herd of horsemen crash into the clearing with spears held high, the moonlight blazing silver on their swords and shields as their horses trampled the Uruks. With shouts and battle cries they destroyed the fell company, one after the other, with hoof and blade and spear. But the hobbits did not stay to watch this; instead they fled deeper into the woods where they stumbled through the gloom and picked their way over root and vines until they had gone far enough away from the battle to feel safe. Merry curled up in the hollow at the base of a large tree and took Pippin in his arms.
"I'm so sorry, Pip, I'm so sorry..." he cried over and over, kissing Pippin's cheeks and his brow, holding him close, rocking him. Pippin wept quietly. And there they sat for most of the night; two small hobbits caught in the midst of a war they couldn't understand, under a dark canopy of trees that seemed to be listening, until the mercy of sleep overcame them.
*****
Author: Faust
Email: goblinarcher93@yahoo.com
Rating: R, for non-consensual
Warning: This is slash. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns these heavenly creatures, not I.
Summary: Merry and Pippin are captured by Uruks. AU of what might have happened to them during that time.
*****
The daylight was waning over the valley as the thundering company of Uruk- hai passed through, hastily making their way toward Isengard. Through fen and glade they tromped, hour after hour, their heavy jackboots disturbing the soft earth and trampling every leaf and blade of grass in their path. A few of the Uruks were visibly showing signs of fatigue, but their lagging paces were continually checked by the smart crack of the captain's whip against their calves or heels. They had been traveling in this manner for more than a day without rest. On the backs of two Uruks were slung their burden, their spoils for Saruman to aid him in his war. This is all they knew about the pair of hobbits they carried.
"Bring the halflings to me," the wizard had said. "Alive, and unspoiled. Kill the others and leave none to escape."
And so they hunted the halflings and their party for several days through the dense woodlands until finally they were able to track them to Parth Galen, near the river. Fiercely the company fought against the Uruks, and they managed to fell nearly half of them in the battle, but once the Man from Gondor was brought down the halflings were quickly seized. Fearing for themselves and for each other the two hobbits were slung over the backs of the towering Uruks and carried off, roughly knocked and jostled about like heavy sacks of grain.
Merry found himself terrified beyond all words at first. In his panic he tried desperately to keep a constant eye on Pippin in the crowd of beasts; poor Pippin, he looked so frail and helpless hanging down the back of a large sweaty brown Uruk a few feet ahead. He looked lifeless to Merry and so small compared to his captor, dangling there like a dead fish, being battered about in a ragged black sea of bobbing heads. The Uruk that carried Merry was unusually large, even for an Uruk, with blackened skin and a coat of jagged leather armor that left his arms exposed. Arms that were, Merry noticed with a lump of nausea in his throat, roughly the size of tree trunks and rippling with grime-stained muscles.
Horrible, panicked thoughts raced around in his mind for the first half of the day as he was repeatedly banged against the Uruk's back, barely aware of the blurred countryside that was whooshing past as the beasts clamored their way through meadow and stream. He could not imagine where they were taking he and Pippin, or what waited there for them. But the thought that plagued his mind the worst was what had become of the rest of the Fellowship. He had watched in horror as Boromir was slain before his very eyes. Merry had screamed through eyes full of tears as he brandished his small sword and charged at the nearest Uruk, but instead of running the fell creature through with his blade he felt himself scooped up and carried away, hanging helplessly down the back of his captor to watch the world grow smaller as it fell away behind them. The last sight he had seen was that of Aragorn, swinging his sword at a pair of Uruks and shouting to Legolas for help. For all he now knew Aragorn and Legolas, and Gimli too, were lying dead and bleeding on a bed of pine needles back at Parth Galen. This thought was unbearable to him. He reminded himself that Frodo had escaped at least, and it gave him some hope and comfort to know the Ring was still traveling. He tried to hum a Shire tune to calm his nerves, but in his frightened state he could not think of a single song or poem.
Eventually as the sun wore down and the evening crept in Merry felt himself growing limp with exhaustion. His arms were aching from supporting his weight all day but he found the more he relaxed and let his body slacken the more he was flopped around against the rough leather tunic upon which he lay. The tunic was made of roughly cut sections of dark brown leather, pieced together and held by many small metal grommets that had a slightly pointed head. These dug into Merry's arms and elbows and his chest, hundreds of tiny blunt stabs each time he jounced against the Uruk's back. In spite of this his eyes finally became heavy but he struggled to keep awake, not wanting to lose sight of Pippin. For the entire length of the day he had not seen Pippin stir or even move his head. Merry choked back a sob. He had wanted so badly to call to him, to see his head snap around and at least give a sign that he was well and aware, but he hadn't dared try. He was flanked on all sides by grunting, snorting Uruks that were already giving him far too many stares as they trotted heavily alongside him. Despite his anxiety sleep overcame Merry eventually, though he found himself jerked awake frequently, filled with despair each time the realization of where he was returned to him. His dreams were dark and fitful, and at one point he woke with a start and had to catch himself from screaming Pippin's name, though he could not remember what he had been dreaming about.
As the Uruks marched endlessly through the night, a night longer than any Merry had ever experienced, the sky finally began to glow in the East and bring the first signs of a new day. His arms were numb by now, and he had lost all feeling in his chest where it had repeatedly slapped against the rows of tiny grommets. He wondered if they would ever stop for a rest. Even Uruk-hai need to rest, don't they? he thought to himself, although apparently they did not as they had run all the previous day and throughout the night without stopping once. Merry longed to just stretch his legs and walk around a bit, and perhaps have a bite of food as well. He felt ravenous although he knew any food the Uruks carried would be inedible, if they even offered any to him.
The day wore on much like the last, except the pain in Merry's arms was now excruciating. He wanted to cry out for them to stop, beg them to stop, just long enough to rub his arms and see if Pippin was alright. But he could tell they were in a desperate hurry to bring the hobbits to their destination, wherever that was, and he knew they had no intention of stopping. The captain of the company gave countless licks of his whip to any Uruk who lagged behind. Merry expected he would do the same to him if he begged them to stop, even if only for a moment. Around midday Merry noticed the Uruk carrying Pippin had fallen back a little, and was now almost beside him. His heart leaped into his throat when he saw this and he craned his neck forward to catch a glimpse of Pippin's face, but all he could see was an old trickle of blood dried on the side of his cheek. At the sight of this he began to sob, hoarsely whispering Pippin's name over to him, not caring anymore who heard him. But neither Pippin nor the Uruks seemed to notice.
The afternoon droned hot and humid, causing the stench of the Uruks to rise to an unbearable pitch. Merry felt like he was bobbing on a rough black ocean of rotting meat and filthy sweat, causing him to gag several times. He always tried hard not to look at them, but sometimes it was unavoidable as he hung there in the midst of the horde. It did not help that the Uruk who bore him had spiny bristles like a boar on the back of his neck just below the rim of his crude helm. Merry tried hard to look at the trees blurring by instead, or occupy his mind by trying to name the different flowers that smeared past his vision, but his gaze always managed to fall on one hulking iron-clad beast or another. He especially tried not to look at their awful jagged teeth. He had heard that Orcs and Uruks will eat anything, even each other, and being so close to them now he believed it. He was sure beyond any doubt that they would never pass up a bit of hobbit if they had the chance. He wondered if they would have that chance soon.
Without warning the company suddenly came to a stop. Merry's head whipped about in alarm. The captain had raised a fist and the rest of the Uruks halted behind him as he surveyed the valley surrounding them, sniffing the air.
"What is it?" said the Uruk behind him. "What do you smell?"
The captain bared his teeth and snarled. "Man-flesh!" he roared. "We're being tracked!"
Merry felt elated for the first time in days. Aragorn was following them, he was sure of it. Not only had he survived the battle at the river, but he was coming after them. The company picked up their pace and the halflings were battered about even harder but Merry didn't care. He stifled a joyous laugh. If only he could whisper the good news to Pippin...
Hours passed and the rush of excitement was fading away. Merry's entire body throbbed with agony and his arms felt dislocated from his shoulders. Aragorn could be miles away for all he knew, if it was even Aragorn's scent that they had caught on the wind. Merry hoped beyond hope that it wasn't just a random traveler who happened to be upwind from the Uruks at that moment. His mind continued to turn these things over when at last he had the idea to drop his cloak clasp for Aragorn to find; if it was in fact Aragorn, he would find it and he would know that he and Pippin still lived. The problem now was removing it without using his arms, which were secured around the scratchy black neck of the Uruk before him. He tugged at the little silver-rimmed leaf clasp with his teeth as hard as he could, and after a few small rips it broke apart and came free of the Elven cloak and without pausing he spit it lightly to the ground. To his relief none of the Uruks seemed to notice.
Merry thought about that clasp often over the next several hours, willing Aragorn to find it and hoping the Uruks hadn't mashed it into the earth with their heavy boots. As the dark closed in and the moon rose round and full above them the Uruks started lagging to a halt in a small grassy glade near the edge of Fangorn Forest. Some sat abruptly upon the ground with a growling sigh. Merry felt dread wash through him. Why had they stopped?
"We don't stop here, you maggots!" the captain snarled. "What's all this then?"
"I'm tired!" an Uruk shouted at him. "I can't run no more!"
"I'm starvin'!" roared another.
The company rumbled with sounds of agreement. The captain was obviously displeased but he ordered a fire to be made, and the Uruks that were still standing now came to rest on the grass with great growls and grunting sighs of relief. Merry found himself dumped to the ground right beside Pippin, and without missing a moment he wiggled around to face him. Pippin's eyes were closed but he did not look peaceful. Blood was dried on the side of his face and his brow was knit with worry and fear.
"Pip!" Merry whispered desperately, using both his bound hands to shake his friend. "Pip, it's me!"
Pippin's eyes fluttered slowly open as if they were sore, or afraid of what they would see. "Merry?" he said in a voice so small and frightened that it cleft Merry's heart in two. Merry grabbed Pippin's bound hands in his and held them.
"You alright Pip? Where are you hurt?" He searched his face for the wound that had caused all the blood but couldn't see anything.
Pippin gingerly rubbed his fingertips into his hair at the left temple and winced. "I think one of them hit me... when he took me. I'm not sure. But my head has been hurting ever since."
Merry fought back a wave of tears. "You'll be ok, don't worry," he said, trying to sound comforting and sure of himself. But he was not sure of anything at that moment, and the waver in his voice belied him.
The Uruks began to argue with each other over the rations they had brought. There wasn't enough of their leathery meat and moldy bread to go around and those that got slighted were furious. One of them suggested eating the halflings, and the rest of the company shouted their approval. Merry and Pippin exchanged terrified looks and grasped each other's hands.
"No!" the captain scowled. "They are to be brought to Saruman... alive!" He cracked his whip into the greedy crowd of Uruks eyeing Merry and Pippin. "Back off you dogs!"
'Saruman,' Pippin mouthed wordlessly to Merry, his face contorting with dread. Merry nodded solemnly. So that's where they were going. It all clicked into place in his mind then, and he squeezed Pippin's hands.
"Pip! They think WE have the Ring!" Merry hissed. Pippin's eyes widened.
"Oh n..." Pippin started to shake his head but was suddenly lifted off the ground in front of Merry. A grisly Uruk had him grasped by the back of the neck with one hand and was holding him up at face-level. Instinctively Merry sprang up and began kicking the trunk-like legs of the beast, shouting for him to let Pippin go. The Uruk raised a boot and almost without effort kicked Merry in the stomach and sent him sprawling several yards away. His face skidded across the dewy grass and he smacked his head on part of a large stone jutting out of the earth. As soon as his fall was complete he was on his feet again immediately and spun to attack the huge Uruk once more, but the sight that greeted him as he scrambled to his feet almost sent him sprawling again. The foul reeking beast had his Pippin by the neck and was forcing his black tongue into the halfling's mouth. The other Uruks roared with laughter.
The world swam in front of Merry's eyes. This couldn't be happening. He charged toward them as fast as he could but it seemed as though his legs were mired in molasses and everything was moving in slow motion. He pounded his small fists against the giant's legs as hard as he could, but another kick sent him flying and he landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him. He tried to stand but before he could get his feet under him he felt a grisly hand grab his arm and he was yanked up off the ground by a hunched- over Uruk. The creature grunted with laughter as he shoved him in front of the brute that still held his dear friend, and he anchored his grimy fist in Merry's hair, rendering him a captive audience.
Pippin was writhing in the iron clutch of the Uruk's huge fist, and Merry could hear him trying to scream through the deep soul kiss he was receiving against his will. His cheek bulged slightly where the Uruk's tongue crudely explored the inside of his mouth. Merry heard a high-pitched wailing then, a heart-wrenching scream that he finally realized was ripping from his own throat. They couldn't be doing this to his Pip, they just couldn't. His panic-stricken brain floundered uselessly trying to think of what to do. All the Uruks were gathered around them now, howling with laughter, gnashing their teeth and wailing with excitement. One of them reached out and tore off Pippin's breeches, leaving him in his thin undergarment. The Uruk that held him pulled his mouth away with a leering groan and began ramming his other hand down Pippin's shorts. The other Uruks brayed in approval. Pippin looked at Merry with a look of pure raw horror and dismay.
"Please!" Merry shouted. "Leave him alone! Please! Do it to me instead! Please!"
"N- no, Merry!" Pippin cried, but his words were cut short by the Uruk forcing his tongue inside him once more.
Merry burst into tears. It seemed to him like a ridiculous thing to do at that moment, tears wouldn't help Pippin at all. But he couldn't help it. He forcefully stood there in the Uruk's grasp watching the demented swine before him violating the one person that meant more than anything to him in this world. He wanted to close his eyes, wanted to spare himself the ghastly sight before him, but he could not bear to look away. He felt as though the least he could do for his dear Pip would be to watch and be with him as he suffered; looking away would be abandoning him. He felt as though his stomach was a yawning pit of despair that was threatening to swallow him whole. He felt himself swoon momentarily in the creature's grasp, his mind blurring briefly and he had to struggle against going mad with grief.
"It's ok, Pip!" his voice croaked hoarsely. "It's ok, I'm here!" This made the black horde around them snort and gurgle with fell laughter.
"And what good are you, eh?" bellowed an Uruk that stood next to Merry, jabbing his finger into the hobbit's chest. "A lot of help you are!" The Uruks threw their heads back and howled almost in unison.
Pippin was fighting the undertow of unconsciousness that was trying its best to pull him under; Merry could see it in his face. His eyes were rolling back and his head was lolling, and he was gasping for air. Even in the moonlight Merry could tell his face was turning gray from being grasped by his neck for so long. The Uruk that held him was trying unsuccessfully to use his free hand to tear off the rest of the halfling's clothes, and the other Uruks standing nearby him began to help in their excitement. Wretched black claws tore at Pippin's cloak and jacket, tossing them down onto the grass followed shortly by his shirt and undershorts. Scarred, calloused hands ran down his sides and several ham-fisted Uruks groped between his legs and up his thighs. Merry wanted to be sick.
In his mind at that moment flashed a picture of Pippin's face the first time they had kissed. So young he was then, almost too young for Merry's conscience; but they had just shared a lovely summer's afternoon on the shores of the Brandywine River, eating and talking and finally they had both run out of words and just stared at one another. Merry thought Pippin was the most beautiful creature he had ever known, and with nervous shaking hands he held the boy's face and kissed him, so long and slow and sweet; and Pippin kissed him back. When they pulled away Merry thought he could see the clouds and the sun and sky and all the beauty of the world reflected in Pippin's eyes, heavy-lidded and dreamlike as he stared at Merry so gentle, with such love. Merry knew from that moment on that he would do anything for Pippin.
And now here he was, powerless to save him from suffering. Merry threw himself against the hands that held him back, screaming Pippin's name until he thought his lungs would burst. The more he thrashed around and tried to pull away each time he felt the Uruk tighten his grip. But he didn't care; he was determined not to stop until they let him go, or until he died trying.
A distant noise caught the attention of one of the Uruks near the outside of the ring and he cocked his head, causing a few others around him to do the same. Merry in his grief took little notice of this until the noise sounded again, and this time the Uruks all began to roar in alarm. A horse brayed in the distance, then another. The Uruks scattered furiously to find the direction from which the noise was coming and to ready themselves to fight. Merry and Pippin were both cast aside to the ground; Merry hit the mud with the side of his head and Pippin landed on top of him. Without a second thought Merry scrambled around to grab up Pippin's clothes and snatched him by the arm, dragging him into Fangorn to hide amongst the trees. A rumble of hooves could be heard far away somewhere in the black night, steadily getting nearer.
"Pip! Pip, are you alright?" Merry cried as they slid behind a fallen tree and crawled partially under it. He hastily began helping him put his clothes back on.
Pippin's dirty face ran with tears, leaving little clear streaks in their wake. "Oh, Merry," he sobbed, shaking his head back and forth as he quickly buttoned his shirt, now missing several of the buttons. "Oh Merry, I don't believe this is happening..."
"Sh, it's alright." Both of their hearts were hammering in their chests and Pippin was near hysterics, but Merry fought to be calm for both their sakes. He busied himself untying the harsh ropes that bound each of their hands, and when both of them were free he immediately threw his arms around Pippin and hugged him. Pippin melted into him and wailed. Merry stroked his hair with shaking hands and listened to the sounds of hooves almost upon them, inciting the Uruks to a frenzy of rage and bloodlust just a few yards away beyond the trees. With a sinking heart he noticed the captain's head whipping about, his wicked stare searching the ground, looking for the halflings. He lifted his head and looked into the woods, almost looking right into Merry's eyes it seemed, and he began to walk towards them.
"Pippin, we've got to go, we've got to get out of here." He grabbed Pip by the arm and they scrambled out from behind the fallen tree just in time to see a large herd of horsemen crash into the clearing with spears held high, the moonlight blazing silver on their swords and shields as their horses trampled the Uruks. With shouts and battle cries they destroyed the fell company, one after the other, with hoof and blade and spear. But the hobbits did not stay to watch this; instead they fled deeper into the woods where they stumbled through the gloom and picked their way over root and vines until they had gone far enough away from the battle to feel safe. Merry curled up in the hollow at the base of a large tree and took Pippin in his arms.
"I'm so sorry, Pip, I'm so sorry..." he cried over and over, kissing Pippin's cheeks and his brow, holding him close, rocking him. Pippin wept quietly. And there they sat for most of the night; two small hobbits caught in the midst of a war they couldn't understand, under a dark canopy of trees that seemed to be listening, until the mercy of sleep overcame them.
*****