Disclaimer: The magic of LOTR belongs to JRR Tolkien and Peter Jackson.

Reviews are always appreciated!

Pippin watched blankly at the scene growing further and further away as the orcs ran. You could just faintly see the slumped figure of Boromir, the three arrows protruding ominously out of his chest, and with every crashing footprint, he was getting harder to see. Pippin glanced over at Merry, who's eyes were glued to the dying man in the distance, a look of dismay as tears threatened to fall from his bright blue eyes.

"Hey! Hey! Over here, over here!"

A distraction had seemed like a good idea at the time. Merry seemed to understand why Frodo had to leave more than Pippin did, but at least Pippin understood that he couldn't get caught by the orcs. Unfortunately, they hadn't thought of what would happen when they pulled the foul creatures of their cousin's path and onto theirs. They only realized their mistake when swarms of orcs were upon them, and they had nothing but small swords and daggers to defend themselves with.

Then Boromir appeared out of nowhere.

Thump.

The first arrow hit Boromir with a dull thud, shocking all three of them, but he still stood tall, fighting till his last.

His last was two arrows later.

Pippin could feel a dull haze surround him, clouding his memory, caused by his grief. He could only vaguely recall charging the orcs with Merry, before being swept off his feet by the storm of orcs.

Literally.

The orcs turned a corner, and Pippin couldn't see the rest of the Fellowship anymore. A few stray tears leaked out of his eyes, and he buried his face in the back of the Uruk-hai, but the wicked stench wafting off it made him regret his decision.

The jerky footsteps of the orc carrying him clanged its armour, and the up-and-down motion was not at all restful, but the hobbit was exhausted, and despite the uncomfortable carrier, he soon found himself drifting off to sleep.

"Ha! Hoo! Ho! Hee!" Pippin let out small grunts as he moved his sword back and forth to defend Boromir's attacks. Boromir had been teaching the hobbits sword skills all morning, and Pippin was confident he was improving.

"There you go!" the man encouraged, moving his sword faster. But the edge of his blade nicked the hobbit's finger, and he dropped his sword with a small hiss of pain.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Boromir's expression turned to one of concern, and he hurried forward to examine Pippin's small cut. But the hobbit was too fast for him, and he lunged for the redhead, Merry along with him, knocking him down, play wrestling until they got even. Aragorn rushed forward to help, but he was knocked down in the scrum, laughing as he hit the ground.

Boromir was laughing, until it suddenly subsided.

Pippin pulled away from him, and recoiled further back in horror, as he noticed three filthy arrows protruding from his chest, red blood standing out starkly on his blue jacket. Boromir's expression had frozen on his face, pale skin and distant eyes, his hands cold to the touch, just where they had grasped his sword moments before…

Pippin awoke with a start, as he was dropped on the ground. The Uruk Hai had stopped for a rest, the forest thinning out onto the plains.

"Merry!" Pippin crawled towards his cousin, who was sitting defeated up against a rock. They weren't bound, but the circle of orcs that surrounded them rendered an escape plan impossible.

"Pippin!" Merry's dull expression brightened when he glimpsed his cousin. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. What about you?"

"I'm fine."

Pippin moved next to Merry, leaning his back against the rock.

"D'you suppose Frodo got off alright then?" he asked, fidgeting until he was comfortable.

"I hope so. Otherwise Boromir died for nothing," Merry spat bitterly, his blue eyes glittering with tears.

The silence that consumed them was as heavy as the rock they leaned against.

"It was our fault," Pippin played with a blade of grass next to him. "Wasn't it?"

"No!" Merry exclaimed, wrapping a comforting arm around Pippin. "Don't say that. It was this disgusting lot," he gestured around the milling Uruk Hai.

"He died to save us Merry. And a fat lot of good that did. They still got us."

"What's important is that Frodo got away, Pippin. This whole quest is centered around him."

"Why was he leaving?"

"He had to. He didn't want anyone to get corrupted by the Ring."

Suddenly, an orc shuffled up to the (they supposed) leader, and whispered something bashfully in its ear.

'You want a toilet, you dig one you disgusting orc!" the leader roared, shoving it out of the way, and the other orc grumbled in embarrassment as the others turned to look at it. It leaned it's sword up against the rock, a few feet away from where Merry and Pippin were huddled, and Pippin shuddered at the sight of it. It was huge, almost as long as they were tall, with a line of dirt covering the grungy black blade.

The orc drew a spade and ducked behind the rock, and the sound of metal hitting the earth echoed behind the hobbits.

Suddenly, through the crowd, emerged a tall Uruk Hai, fingering a large black bow. It drew the string back as if to fire it, and the surrounding orcs roared with laughter, a horrible throaty sound that sent shivers down Pippin's spine.

He felt Merry shift beside him, and Pippin glanced up to see the orc again pretending to fire the bow, much to the sadistic amusement of its companions.

He suddenly realized.

They were making fun of Boromir's sacrifice.

Guilt, sorrow and rage consumed him, and he glanced up at Merry, but his emotions were replaced by shock as he noticed the expression on Merry's face.

His cousin had such pure hatred on his face, his fair features twisted up into a scowl, tears brimming in rage-filled eyes. He suddenly pushed himself upwards, with such utter determination, such that Pippin had never seen on him before.

"Merry! What are you doing?" he hissed, fear lacing his undertones.

In a flash, Merry picked up the abandoned sword next to them, and stumbled slightly at the weight of it, but charged with an angry roar towards the chuckling orcs.

He swung wildly, screaming with anger as he did so, catching the orcs off guard, as he sliced through armour, flesh and bone. The one with the bow dropped to the ground, the bow slipping from his grasp as he died, hitting the forest floor with an ominous thunk.

Uproar stirred as Merry kept fighting, and many orcs started for their weapons.

"THE HALFLINGS HAVE TO BE KEPT ALIVE!" the Uruk leader roared, but it was obvious they had to do something, as many orcs were falling due to Merry's wild blows.

Suddenly, the orc digging the hole jumped over the rock, and in a flash, struck the spade he was using against Merry's head.

Merry crumpled to the ground.

Pippin screamed.

"No! MERRY!"

He scrambled towards his fallen cousin, barely registering his own yells, as he reached Merry. A horrible gash had opened up on the side of his head, and was leaking blood like a fountain.

The orc dropped the shovel on the ground, and to Pippin's horror, it had a whole side coated red with Merry's blood.

"We keep moving." The Uruk leader said gruffly, and the company of orcs gathered their stuff. Pippin watched in alarm as Merry's limp body was lifted into the air by an Uruk Hai, blood still flowing smoothly out of the deep cut.

"And you."

The hobbit jumped as the leader pointed at him.

"You try anything like that, and we'll do the same to you. Understand?"

Pippin could only nod as he too was scooped onto the back of another orc, and the company took off down the plains. Rocky outcrops were placed scattered over the landscape, and Pippin's gut moaned as the jerky motions of his ride resumed.

Pippin scrunched his eyes shut as he leaned against the orc's back, silently pleading for Merry to wake.

The next scene in this story would be the (I think) extended scene of the orcs running between the cliffs, and Merry wakes up (in pain.)

Thanks for reading!