These characters and places are not my own, they belong to JRR Tolkien.
The large oak played deaf to Legolas' cries for help. His strong hands rustled the large roots but they diminished little to his strength, stubborn and loyal to the long-standing command of the gnomes. It is the constitution of Wood-Elves to endure and prevail, though Legolas' could not see the answer to their escape, it would come to him, no doubt, but perhaps not ere the young hobbit's starving breath.
Rapid breathing escaped from Pippin's lips, imparting restless groaning and jolts of sudden screams. His little legs sporadically jerked, running from an unknown shadow that he could not unfled. Lacking the mental resistance to the witching gnomes' spells, in and out of vivid dreaming Pippin slipped. Hours crept slowly and the elf wearied to stir him each time he fell under, but the last painful cry beseeched Legolas to impede. Crawling to the niche Pippin cradled himself within, Legolas called in a stern elven voice, demanding yet lyrical, "Awake from the demons set to hunt you." The immune elf pitied him and the cure lied only to wait for the spell to thin.
Now alert, eyes open to the nightmare of their reality, the hobbit shrunk from the grotesque roots twisting overhead, as if they were ready to uncoil and wrap their earthy tentacles around him. A pang churned from inside his stomach and he shifted to meet the concerned look of his fellow prisoner.
"Legolas, I'm dreadfully hungry." Pippin said in a whine, rubbing the parts of him that ached. Indeed, he now knew true hunger, a sensation never experienced by a hobbit whose given birth right was well fed appetite. But Pippin needn't speak a reminder; the rumbling emanating from the hobbit's stomach were a deafening thunder in Legolas' ears. All their belongings, food, water, weapons, blankets, they were beyond reach somewhere above ground.
Lack of water and nutrition slowed the Legolas' thought process, he struggled to focus his attention towards an escape route and often he found himself in half sleep, eyes fixed on the hobbit left in his care. Weaving in and out of dream-state, the hobbit figure altered shapes resembling images from the archer's past. One instant the curly brown hobbit locks dripped, straightening as it lengthened, catching the rays of sun mysteriously entering the dream and bathing the hair into a flowing golden river. Topping the cascade of the gorgeous mane was a crown of fall berries baring proudly over the face of his father, the elven king. His eyes were stern yet sorrowful, disappointment bored over the dreamer's heart as he was called back to the day he reported the deaths of two elven soldiers and the loss of the prisoner trusted to the mighty caves of Mirkwood.
Shaking the memory from his mind into a blur, another familiar shape haunted him. Another golden haired image this time of an elven lady, crowned with a ring of orange and golden leaves, fitted in a glowing white garment with breezes that whisped through the gentle folds in her sleeves. "Nanaeth, naneth!" He pleasantly muttered. His beloved mother, eternally blessed with an encouraging smile for her son that never faltered in bringing him peace. The archer felt an arrow of regret pierce through his heart, the pain was overwhelming and he missed her more than his feelings could express in the greatest of elven songs. There was a bright flash that rattled his sleep. In the elven queen's hand was a woody stem from a beech. She brought the piece to her lips and gazed intently upon her son, she mouthed words he could not hear or decipher. Another flash and she was gone.
He ran to find her among the crowd of bushy-leafed trees, pushing them aside, making his way through and calling her though he made no sound. Ending the path he trotted lead him to an elven maiden, distraught and crying, bowing her head as she sat against the great beech tree. Waves in her raven hair tumbled gracefully down her back and over her shoulders, neatly puddling the grass she sat upon. The image of himself in the dream dared not make a sound, but the loud hollow beating of his heart was not easily ignored and the maiden realized she was not alone. Her sobbing brown eyes met his aching stare, and the bruised heart of the warrior sank deeper into depths of a familiar sadness. His eyes welled tears both in image and reality. Another ache wretched his heart, pulling it down, weighting it heavy. There were no words to exchange; his love for her could not endure them both as she declared no longer any love for him. A curse to love another without a reciprocate in return can wither away an elf's immortal life. Many autumn moons were to pass before Legolas emerged from his hiding and took his normal place again among fellow friends and family. That day in woods, the day she left Mirkwood, he never wanted to relive and forcibly cast out her image and her name from his long record of memory. That is, until this moment, when duress heaved the demons he suppressed silently under the layer of mental anguish contrasting his will to live the life of a great archer and warrior. And the warrior indeed won out.
Pippin, awake now a couple hours keeping watch of their headless captors, was surprised of the elf's stream of tears. A sight leaving him dumbfounded, with no answer to either rouse Legolas or provide him comfort in some small way. He opted instead to let him be and never speak of it.
Two more hours slipped them closer to starving. The tears dried on Legolas' face. Unaware the tears were real, he awoke surprisingly renewed and spoke no word of the stories told in his restless sleep.
"We are closer now to leaving this direful prison. An idea has just discovered me!" Legolas sprung forward to the gnome lying closest to him. Upon searching the pockets of the headless figure the elf discovered a small knife. Then took the blade to a root twisting under the earth, a small, but principal coil. He murmured through the exposed tree root, nearly placing his lips to the life giving knots and closed his eyes. The wise, old spirit awakened, finally free from the gnomes' enchantment, stretching and creaking in a great, well deserved yawn, lengthening the deep roots in a slow unsprawling, then quickly recoiling to the original shape. It finished with brief shiver. Thankful to for the elf's magical words, he took Legolas' bidding and the oak filled the elf with scenes of the world upside. It appeared to him they were in the middle of a natural orchard of oaks, but no beast or bird lived in this part of the forest for years now. In a harmonious tone Legolas begged to be free. Sensing the white oak's apparent reluctance, he laid an oath to stay their hands away from his kindred trees, to which this was agreed. As an elf who spoke the words of trees the oak rest assured of Legolas' honor.
A giant thunder rumbled above them as the roots plucked out of the ground and rose high into the free air. The pale cloudy light blinded the prisoners, but joyous nonetheless they were of the hurt in their eyes to see the sun once again. It was Legolas who first hoisted himself on the brambly roots to climb out of the subterranean dwelling. He reached for Pippin who jumped to clasp his forearm and then pulled the eager hobbit out.
"I think I shall prefer this glorious light for days and for nights without end than to go another hour in a sunless world!" Exclaimed Pippin thankfully rubbing his eyes. A shaft of light burst down through a break in the clouds, welcoming the Company of Two. "Ahh…" Pippin reveled in it's glow and opened his eyes to it's glory.
To the white oak Legolas praised and pressed his lips upon it's bark as the roots settled down into the cavity they made their home. Pippin knew no tree words and settled to show his appreciation by wrapping his arms around what he could of the oak's girth and smile lovingly.
"Come along, Mister Peregrin, we have a long journey back to the road."
"How do you know where we've been left?"
"The disturbance of the dirt where he have been dragged is the guide we shall take. It has been at least two days and the path the gnomes took hides itself well under the weather. Fresh air and sunlight renew us. We must carry on as long as our feet can hold up our bodies. No fire can be burned, no brush or kin of our wise oak can be handled in any way as is our keeping in return for his aid."
Before the sun set into the far horizon, they came across a stream of water trickling south, curving from the west. The gentle waters were icy, but the wasted travelers would have cared to drink boiling water if the stream were made of it. While their hands and lips numbed at the water's touch, their mouths gladly drank. The temperature fell down their throats and flowed evenly through each parched living cell. They rested for an hour, drinking till they had their fill and began to retrace the path they unknowingly left behind as sleeping prisoners.
A very distant length they were dragged indeed from the clearing they rested ere their nightmares began. There was no moon above but even in the blackest pitch of night, Legolas' eyes were sharp and the nameless path was clear to him like starlight against a dark sky. Pippin stumbled both from fatigue and blindness. One hand was lain on Legolas' elven coat and the other wagged, lifeless and asleep, begging the rest of the hobbit to do the same. His insides and outsides shivered beneath his cloak, but he was too tired to notice he was also freezing.
"Can't we stop for the night? My feet are failing me." Whined Pippin with his eyes closed, barely able to prop up his head.
Before Legolas negated the request, he considered it slightly then ultimately agreed. More progress will be gained in the morning after acquiring much needed rest. Pippin lied down immediately and shriveled up into a warm position. Around the hobbit Legolas huddled distributing heat needed for Pippin to last through the freezing temperatures in the night.
The break of dawn cast a spear of light on Legolas and he rose out of slumber. He let Pippin lie while he inspected the path further down the bend. There for nearly two hours, as the sun climbed higher in the sky occasionally finding it's way through the gray clouds, Pippin relaxed alone. The dream of Merry's voice returned to him and in a frightening reaction, he scuttled to his feet.
"Oh, my blessed hobbit, I have found you at last!" Merry ran to him from the rise in the path ahead.
Pippin pinched himself and grimaced, but he was not yet sure if Merry was a dream. No sign of Legolas was left, his doubt plagued him and a worrisome fright lay on his brow. He shrank from Merry's touch as he neared. But Merry only laughed, "Has it been too long that you've forgotten your dear cousin? I am aching to hear your news! Tell me everything and start from the beginning."
"The beginning?" Pippin asked in mistrust. "Do you mean from when we fell from gathering those wretched winterberries?"
"Heavens, I'm glad you reminded me." Merry said digging into his pocket to uncover a drawstring pouch that he offered. "This is yours."
Hesitantly, Pippin took it and released the contents of the bag on to his hand. To his shock, out poured a handful of winterberries. "These must be over two weeks old yet they appear freshly picked!" Pippin barked an accusing tone.
Again, Merry amused by the starving hobbit, guffawed loudly, "The fall knocked all sense from you, it did. Don't be a ninny! I gathered new berries as they expired, waiting long for our meeting so their sweetness may be returned to you." He ended again with a chuckle.
Pippin came forward and reached within his cousin's cloak, wrapping his hands around the hilt on his waist. Pushing Merry to the ground, the sword became unsheathed while the stunned hobbit backed away from the violent glint in Pippin's eyes. "I know your game. By the swipe of this sword you will fail to win me over a second time."
Merry ceased his laughter as he looked down the blade his own sword. The dawning of his death was rising bid by the trusting hands of his dear lad, Pippin. "Return to your senses! What has overcome your heart that would betray your mind that I am the enemy?" Merry shouted in distress.
"Your fool tricks are no match for me!" Pippin burst forward.
In the distance the voice of Legolas was faintly heard from the second rise in the dell, "Pippin! Lay down your sword!" He ran swiftly aware the spell Pippin cast upon himself would drive him to enact it's cure with swift beheading justice. But Pippin ignored the command and drew back his slice. Merry winced and silently said his farewells.
The strong arrow struck the moving blade and releasing it from Pippin's will. The footsteps of Legolas and Aragorn neared to the scene. Pippin, overwhelmed in shock, could not believe his eyes and he wondered how to take on all three of them to ensure his survival. With is hand out, he reached for the sword that fell from his hand. A weathered boot stomp on the blade and the crazed eyes met level with Aragorn's.
"They are real, Pippin. They are real." Legolas said. "Here, look here." Legolas showed off his bow and handled the hobbit's lost pack. "Our belongings have been returned by our friends."
But Pippin shook his head in disbelief. The command to clear his mind weakened to the involuntary pulse of reverse psychology and he thought of every emotion he bared. He then cursed himself for having insignificant strength, and helf his head in his hands. A blackness shut down on the young hobbit. His eyes rolled back in to his head, wanting to see no more of dream cousins or real rangers. The tired mind of Pippin was spent, exhausted and put out. Heaviness consumed him and he faltered backward falling into Aragorn's arms. There was no explanation given to Merry or Aragorn, who rested Pippin in his arms beneath his cloak. No words were uttered as they hiked to the camp to rejoin the others.
++I almost ended it at "Merry winced and silently said his farewells", but some of you would have come after MY head.
My thanks again to the regular readers and to those who have newly discovered this little shindig. As I stated before (this is more fair warning) there is one more chapter left and then "the end".++