Fears chased themselves around inside Merry's head. He didn't know where he was, and worse, he didn't know where Pippin could be. The orcs had separated the two hobbits a day or so before. Though they weren't the smartest of creatures, they knew how to get what they wanted. And what they wanted was the ring. Unfortunately, neither he nor Pippin had the treasure, let alone knew where it was. Merry sat huddled against a tree; his tears making the moonlight sparkle in his eyes. He could almost hear Pippin's cries in his mind, loud and clear like the ringing of trumpets.

Merry, where are you?

He tried to blink the tears out of his eyes, with hopeless avail. A nearby orc laughed. 'Poor little Halfling,' he jeered, 'just tell us where the ring is, and we'll let you and your companion be on your happy way. If you keep up your foolish games, we might have to hurt your friend even more.'

The orc's last comment caught Merry by surprise. He couldn't catch his terror before it flooded his entire face. 'Don't worry, Halfling. We'll break the both of you before we reach Isengard,'

'No, you won't,' Merry choked, knitting his brows together, 'you're wasting your time, really. Neither of us is going to tell you anything.'

The orc growled and grabbed Merry by the collar. 'You little maggot, I'll make you squeak like a filthy rat!'

'Put the Halfling down, we're not to spoil them, Saruman's orders,' the second orc turned to Merry. 'Don't think you'll get away with your little comment, you slime. We have ways of paying you back without spoiling your usefulness,' He pulled Merry to his feet and sent a cracking whip down against his ankles. He stifled a cry, much to the delight of the surrounding orcs. Lifted by his neck, squirming and writhing above the ground, Merry bit his tongue, sending blood spilling through his mouth.

'Where is the ring?' The first orc growled.

Merry spat blood in the orc's yellow eyes, and he was dropped back to the earth. 'You swine, you squirming grub, I'll slit you and your friend from naval to nose! I'll make you wish you…'

'Whiteskins!' a nearby orc cried. The whole troop moved to attack, but not before Merry was securely bound. 'Stay here, and don't move,' said the orc, 'I'll have my eye on you, don't worry!'

Had the Fellowship come to rescue them? Would a whole brigade of orcs rise to attention over only four? At least Frodo had gotten away with the ring, or at least Merry hoped he had. It seemed the whole band had gone off to fight; maybe Merry could escape, unnoticed. He didn't have anything to cut the ropes, however. The orcs had taken he and Pippin's swords while they were still unconscious. He bit at the bonds quite uselessly. An arrow came whizzing through the air and took out an orc a few feet away. Merry didn't want to cause any attention to drift his way, but this might be his only chance to get away and find Pippin. So, as carefully as he could, he inched over to the fallen orc. I hope he's dead, thought Merry, otherwise I'll be in for quite a nasty shock.

The elven cloak draped around Merry's shoulders shielded him from unwanted eyes. With bound hands, he tried to lift the orc's arm, still clinging fast to his black scabbard. He slipped the blade in between his two hands, nicking his arm only once or twice. Moving the sword back and forth against the bonds, he felt one rope snap, then another. Soon, he was free. Or, at least from the waste up. The knots holding his legs together were almost too tight to be undone with his small hobbit fingers, but luckily both he and Pippin were skilled in undoing tangled ropes, how else would they break into Farmer Maggot's winter store?

After covering where he had been, Merry slipped off into a patch of forest. He made sure to leave a few scrambled footprints here and there, so the orcs would not be able to tell which way he had gone. He darted further into the woods. Where could Pippin be? It would be quite useless to stumble around in the forest until he found his friend, but if that's what it came down to, there wasn't a question to be asked. I suppose the other orcs won't be too far off, thought Merry, they'd have to join up again sooner or later.

The clinking of swords met Merry's ears, drowning out the murmuring of the trees. He hoped it was the other orc troop, and, darting behind trees, he made his way forward. A shrub root caught his foot, and he stumbled to the ground. Looking up, he found what he was looking for. To the untrained eye, a small bundle lay piled against a tree trunk, but Merry knew, somehow, that the small bundle was his cousin. He crept nearer, careful not to trip again.

'Pippin,' he hissed. A hand appeared from under the pile, and flicked back a cloak. 'Pippin!' Merry whispered, a little louder.

'I wasn't trying to escape, really, I wasn't, I…' Pippin stammered.

'Shh, Pip! It's me!' whispered Merry, trying not to attract any attention.

'M-Merry?' Tears sprang to Pippin's eyes. He lept up, and ran over to Merry. His wrist was swollen, but at least he was alive.

'Oh, poor Pip, what have they done to you?'

'I think something's broken, but I'm alright. Merry, they told me you were dead! They said…'

Pippin hadn't finished the sentence when his guard sprang after them both. Merry wanted to kick himself, how could he have forgotten the orcs after all he'd done to find Pippin? He turned to the younger hobbit. "I think we should…'

'RUN!' Pippin interrupted, and the two darted off into the woods. There was no way they could outrun the orc. Merry did the first thing to come to mind.

'Pippin!' he yelled, 'Quick, up the tree!'

'But I can't…' Pippin gasped between breaths. Merry shoved him up to the first branch, and scrambled up after. Hobbits were, in no means, natural tree climbers. The Brandybucks were as skilled as it got, however, and Merry thought they might be able to get away, especially if the orc couldn't reach them. He later realized his mistake. The orc simply shook the tree, nearly knocking the hobbits out.

'M-M-Merry!' Pippin said as he was jolted back and forth, 'We're going to have to jump out and run; if we go in different directions he won't be able to follow both of us," Merry could've smiled, another one of Pippin's tactics for getting out of trouble. Of course, this was a little different than getting away from an angry relative or a screaming farmer.

'Alright, I guess you're right, on the count of three then!' Merry began to count, 'One…Two…'

The orc let out a harsh cry, nearly scaring the hobbits out of their skins. 'Go!' yelled Merry, and the two took a flying leap out of the tree. Pippin's sore wrist caught his weight, and stars flickered before his eyes as he started to tear through the shrubbery. Merry hit the ground, and after a few moments of regaining his senses, he bolted in the opposite direction. He heard the orc snarl, and waited to see which direction he would go. The thumping of his boots went in the other direction…after Pippin.

***