Chapter Three - Quick thinking
They were faint, yet clearly audible, and cut through the air like a knife. Pippin's body stiffened, and he strained his ears to try to fathom how far they were from the camp. They could not have been very close, but near enough for Pippin's sharp ears to hear them. They seemed to be coming from the land behind the camp, which was screened by thick green vines and heavy undergrowth and shrubbery. Pippin silently got up, and without thinking, stealthily made his way away from the camp. He slid behind a curtain of thick leaves and weeds, and slowly peered around to see the origin of the voices. The sight that met his eyes caused terror to surge through his veins. Standing in a clearing no more than twenty feet away from him stood a group of orcs.
There were over thirty of them, and they seemed to be discussing, or rather arguing, about something. Pippin caught his breath. He had to warn the others before it was too late. He turned to run back to the camp, but his feet made a crunching noise on the dead leaves that covered the earth like a carpet. A nearby orc turned its head, giving a suspicious glance to the area where Pippin was hiding. Pippin froze, but thankfully the orc did not see him, and turned away. Panic began to clog his brain. There was no way he could warn the others now. Even if he did warn them they were hopelessly outnumbered. With no other option but to do so, he leant forwards and tried to listen to what the orcs were saying.
They were a rather motley collection of orcs, and had were most probably the remains of armies from Isengard and Mordor who had gone astray at some point and joined together. The largest and foulest of them all had once been an important orc in Mordor, but after hearing murmurs of a Ring of Power he had been driven close to madness by the mere thought of it. He was their leader, and was standing on a tree stump as he spoke, luckily for Pippin, in the common tongue.
"The Ring is close, my friends," he said, grinning horribly so that his pointed yellow teeth caught the moonlight.
"The element of surprise is with us. We will launch an attack, kill them all. They will have no chance." He ran his fingers up the blade of his sword menacingly. The other orcs leered at him, delighted at the prospect of bloodshed and victory.
"We will find the ring after they are dead. Then, we will be the most successful and praised Orcs in the whole of Middle Earth. We will overthrow, one by one, the puny, pathetic lands of Elves and Men. Sauron himself will fall at our feet. Don't let any of the halflings get away. They have the Ring. Prepare your weapons, we will leave shortly."
Pippin was horrified. He couldn't think. He nervously fumbled in his pocket, and his fingers fell across something smooth and cold. He pulled it out and held it in front of his face. It was a simple gold ring, given to him by his father. It was one of their wedding rings, and it traditionally went to the first male son of the family. It had lain forgotten in his waistcoat pocket since the start of his journey, for he did not wear it on his finger for fear of loosing it. A fragment of an idea began to form in Pippins head. He felt hope. It just might work. And even if it wouldn't, what other choice did he have? He leant forward, ready to take his moment. As the orcs were checking over their weapons, his thoughts drifted to the conversation they had just had. Deluded by their visions of glory and power, the Ring had begun to corrupt them before they even had it in their grasp.
'Stupid to think they can overthrow Sauron,' Pippin thought to himself. How could a group of thirty orcs hope to defeat armies of thousands and thousands, as well as the Dark Lord himself? Pippin had not imagined the power of the Ring to be this strong. He recalled Boromir saying how it was 'such a small thing', yet it held the fate of their world. Boromir, powerful, noble Boromir, was greatly tempted by the ring, yet Frodo could resist it. He felt pride for Frodo, and then immense determination. He would save Frodo from death, even if it meant dying himself.
Just then the orc that seemed to be in charge said something in it's own language that Pippin could not understand. The orcs looked ready to set off.
'Its now or never Pip,' he muttered to himself.
Gathering all the courage he could muster, he stepped with shaking legs away from his hiding place. Instantly they spotted him, a cry was let out, and two orcs roughly grasped his arms and pinned him up against a tree. Pippin felt the cold blade of a sword against his throat, and looking up he saw the leader of the orcs, who had just been talking, in front of him. He was looking down upon him with a mixture of disdain and amusement on his ugly face.
"Well well well. A halfling in our midst," he said, smiling sarcastically at Pippin. The other orcs snickered.
"What is your name?" he asked. Pippin did not speak. "Answer me!" he said, pressing the blade into his throat so that it almost nicked the skin.
"Baggins," Pippin said, thinking quickly. He must play this part; he must save his friends, no matter what happened to him.
The orc drew his sword away slightly.
"Baggins." He said to himself, his lips curling into a horrible smile. "We have heard whispers of that name on our travels. The Black Riders have been searching for you, but it seems we got here first."
Pippin swallowed, and looked up defiantly.
"Well Mr. Baggins. I do believe you have something of interest to us," the orc said, putting his face up closer to Pippin's. Pippin winced at the putrid smell, and half closed his eyes. "We know of what you carry."
"Oh yes?" He said faintly. His arms hurt him terribly; the orcs that were holding him up were pushing their hard, ironbound hands into him forcefully, without compassion.
"Don't play the fool with me." The orc said, anger flashing across his face. "We want the Ring. Are you going to give it to us nicely," The orcs snickered again, "or are we going to have to make you?"
The hold on his arms was released, and Pippin fell to the floor. Instantly a circle of orcs closed in around him.
"I will not give the ring to you foul creatures." Pippin almost spat out.
He felt a hard, metal boot kick him in the side. The wind was knocked out of him, and he couldn't breathe. He spluttered and rolled over. He could hear orc laughter ringing in his ears.
"Miserable little rat. Why don't we finish him off?" growled a voice from above Pippin. Then came the sound of a weapon being drawn.
"Shut your trap!" Pippin recognized the voice of the orc that hit him. "Let him suffer. I'll finish him off once we have it."
Pippin gritted his teeth and lay still.
"Give us the Ring!" The orc repeated, kicking him again with more force.
"Never!" Pippin cried. The only thought that ran through his head was of the others. His friends. They must leave them alone, they can't find them.
He felt hands grab his neck, and he was hoisted to his feet. His legs shook and he could hardly stand upright. The orc looked down at him, drawing his blade back and forth across his leathery hand.
"The Ring."
"No!"
The sword flashed. He was once again on the floor. Blood stained his clothes from a cut on his chest. Pippin clutched at it frantically, gasping in pain as it stung him sharply. The cut was ugly and painful and a reminder of what was to come if he did not give the Ring up. But he couldn't, not yet. If he gave it up too soon they would be suspicious, and wonder if it was the One Ring that they so longed for. He had to hold on, they had to be so mad with victory that they would not think to look at the ring until they were far, far away.
Pippin felt more kicks and blows rain down on his body. Now was time to give the ring up. If he didn't, they would surely kill him. Rough hands grasped his hair and he was pulled to his feet. Pippin angrily pulled himself free, and then flopped back against a tree trunk, his whole body shaking and weak.
"So. Changed our mind have we?" he said patronizingly to Pippin.
"Take it," Pippin said bitterly, holding out his ring. The orc grabbed it from his outstretched hand, and looked upon it, an expression of triumph on his face.
With that the last blow fell, with more force and malice than the others. The hilt of a sword hit him hard on the back of the head. Pippin was flung forward, face pressed into the dry earth. He hit the ground with much force, and felt a thudding in his head. Faintly he could hear many feet thud away, mingled with cheers and shouts. Then his eyesight slowly clouded over and everything became black and distorted. He took a faltering breath, and knew no more.
*-*
Authors Note: If you want to find out if Pippin's okay then check out the next chapter which should be up in a day or two. I am no medical expert, so I don't know if Pippins injuries match the symptoms, but I did my best. Also, thanks for your great feedback! Fourteen whole reviews (at this count) all for me! Here are some responses to the reviews:
gandolegornliodorypinieieta : Don't worry, Legolas will be in later chapters! I don't think I put him in the first two for some reason. Also, I am the humble age of 15.
Bookworm: Thanks for the review and thanks for the criticism, I checked the chapters over God knows how many times, but I STILL didn't get everything! I'm a bit annoyed with myself, but I'll try harder in future.
I thank all reviewers, because I love to receive them so much and they make my day. If you leave your pen name I will check out some of your fics if I have enough time.
Please review, and as always, LOTR is not mine!
They were faint, yet clearly audible, and cut through the air like a knife. Pippin's body stiffened, and he strained his ears to try to fathom how far they were from the camp. They could not have been very close, but near enough for Pippin's sharp ears to hear them. They seemed to be coming from the land behind the camp, which was screened by thick green vines and heavy undergrowth and shrubbery. Pippin silently got up, and without thinking, stealthily made his way away from the camp. He slid behind a curtain of thick leaves and weeds, and slowly peered around to see the origin of the voices. The sight that met his eyes caused terror to surge through his veins. Standing in a clearing no more than twenty feet away from him stood a group of orcs.
There were over thirty of them, and they seemed to be discussing, or rather arguing, about something. Pippin caught his breath. He had to warn the others before it was too late. He turned to run back to the camp, but his feet made a crunching noise on the dead leaves that covered the earth like a carpet. A nearby orc turned its head, giving a suspicious glance to the area where Pippin was hiding. Pippin froze, but thankfully the orc did not see him, and turned away. Panic began to clog his brain. There was no way he could warn the others now. Even if he did warn them they were hopelessly outnumbered. With no other option but to do so, he leant forwards and tried to listen to what the orcs were saying.
They were a rather motley collection of orcs, and had were most probably the remains of armies from Isengard and Mordor who had gone astray at some point and joined together. The largest and foulest of them all had once been an important orc in Mordor, but after hearing murmurs of a Ring of Power he had been driven close to madness by the mere thought of it. He was their leader, and was standing on a tree stump as he spoke, luckily for Pippin, in the common tongue.
"The Ring is close, my friends," he said, grinning horribly so that his pointed yellow teeth caught the moonlight.
"The element of surprise is with us. We will launch an attack, kill them all. They will have no chance." He ran his fingers up the blade of his sword menacingly. The other orcs leered at him, delighted at the prospect of bloodshed and victory.
"We will find the ring after they are dead. Then, we will be the most successful and praised Orcs in the whole of Middle Earth. We will overthrow, one by one, the puny, pathetic lands of Elves and Men. Sauron himself will fall at our feet. Don't let any of the halflings get away. They have the Ring. Prepare your weapons, we will leave shortly."
Pippin was horrified. He couldn't think. He nervously fumbled in his pocket, and his fingers fell across something smooth and cold. He pulled it out and held it in front of his face. It was a simple gold ring, given to him by his father. It was one of their wedding rings, and it traditionally went to the first male son of the family. It had lain forgotten in his waistcoat pocket since the start of his journey, for he did not wear it on his finger for fear of loosing it. A fragment of an idea began to form in Pippins head. He felt hope. It just might work. And even if it wouldn't, what other choice did he have? He leant forward, ready to take his moment. As the orcs were checking over their weapons, his thoughts drifted to the conversation they had just had. Deluded by their visions of glory and power, the Ring had begun to corrupt them before they even had it in their grasp.
'Stupid to think they can overthrow Sauron,' Pippin thought to himself. How could a group of thirty orcs hope to defeat armies of thousands and thousands, as well as the Dark Lord himself? Pippin had not imagined the power of the Ring to be this strong. He recalled Boromir saying how it was 'such a small thing', yet it held the fate of their world. Boromir, powerful, noble Boromir, was greatly tempted by the ring, yet Frodo could resist it. He felt pride for Frodo, and then immense determination. He would save Frodo from death, even if it meant dying himself.
Just then the orc that seemed to be in charge said something in it's own language that Pippin could not understand. The orcs looked ready to set off.
'Its now or never Pip,' he muttered to himself.
Gathering all the courage he could muster, he stepped with shaking legs away from his hiding place. Instantly they spotted him, a cry was let out, and two orcs roughly grasped his arms and pinned him up against a tree. Pippin felt the cold blade of a sword against his throat, and looking up he saw the leader of the orcs, who had just been talking, in front of him. He was looking down upon him with a mixture of disdain and amusement on his ugly face.
"Well well well. A halfling in our midst," he said, smiling sarcastically at Pippin. The other orcs snickered.
"What is your name?" he asked. Pippin did not speak. "Answer me!" he said, pressing the blade into his throat so that it almost nicked the skin.
"Baggins," Pippin said, thinking quickly. He must play this part; he must save his friends, no matter what happened to him.
The orc drew his sword away slightly.
"Baggins." He said to himself, his lips curling into a horrible smile. "We have heard whispers of that name on our travels. The Black Riders have been searching for you, but it seems we got here first."
Pippin swallowed, and looked up defiantly.
"Well Mr. Baggins. I do believe you have something of interest to us," the orc said, putting his face up closer to Pippin's. Pippin winced at the putrid smell, and half closed his eyes. "We know of what you carry."
"Oh yes?" He said faintly. His arms hurt him terribly; the orcs that were holding him up were pushing their hard, ironbound hands into him forcefully, without compassion.
"Don't play the fool with me." The orc said, anger flashing across his face. "We want the Ring. Are you going to give it to us nicely," The orcs snickered again, "or are we going to have to make you?"
The hold on his arms was released, and Pippin fell to the floor. Instantly a circle of orcs closed in around him.
"I will not give the ring to you foul creatures." Pippin almost spat out.
He felt a hard, metal boot kick him in the side. The wind was knocked out of him, and he couldn't breathe. He spluttered and rolled over. He could hear orc laughter ringing in his ears.
"Miserable little rat. Why don't we finish him off?" growled a voice from above Pippin. Then came the sound of a weapon being drawn.
"Shut your trap!" Pippin recognized the voice of the orc that hit him. "Let him suffer. I'll finish him off once we have it."
Pippin gritted his teeth and lay still.
"Give us the Ring!" The orc repeated, kicking him again with more force.
"Never!" Pippin cried. The only thought that ran through his head was of the others. His friends. They must leave them alone, they can't find them.
He felt hands grab his neck, and he was hoisted to his feet. His legs shook and he could hardly stand upright. The orc looked down at him, drawing his blade back and forth across his leathery hand.
"The Ring."
"No!"
The sword flashed. He was once again on the floor. Blood stained his clothes from a cut on his chest. Pippin clutched at it frantically, gasping in pain as it stung him sharply. The cut was ugly and painful and a reminder of what was to come if he did not give the Ring up. But he couldn't, not yet. If he gave it up too soon they would be suspicious, and wonder if it was the One Ring that they so longed for. He had to hold on, they had to be so mad with victory that they would not think to look at the ring until they were far, far away.
Pippin felt more kicks and blows rain down on his body. Now was time to give the ring up. If he didn't, they would surely kill him. Rough hands grasped his hair and he was pulled to his feet. Pippin angrily pulled himself free, and then flopped back against a tree trunk, his whole body shaking and weak.
"So. Changed our mind have we?" he said patronizingly to Pippin.
"Take it," Pippin said bitterly, holding out his ring. The orc grabbed it from his outstretched hand, and looked upon it, an expression of triumph on his face.
With that the last blow fell, with more force and malice than the others. The hilt of a sword hit him hard on the back of the head. Pippin was flung forward, face pressed into the dry earth. He hit the ground with much force, and felt a thudding in his head. Faintly he could hear many feet thud away, mingled with cheers and shouts. Then his eyesight slowly clouded over and everything became black and distorted. He took a faltering breath, and knew no more.
*-*
Authors Note: If you want to find out if Pippin's okay then check out the next chapter which should be up in a day or two. I am no medical expert, so I don't know if Pippins injuries match the symptoms, but I did my best. Also, thanks for your great feedback! Fourteen whole reviews (at this count) all for me! Here are some responses to the reviews:
gandolegornliodorypinieieta : Don't worry, Legolas will be in later chapters! I don't think I put him in the first two for some reason. Also, I am the humble age of 15.
Bookworm: Thanks for the review and thanks for the criticism, I checked the chapters over God knows how many times, but I STILL didn't get everything! I'm a bit annoyed with myself, but I'll try harder in future.
I thank all reviewers, because I love to receive them so much and they make my day. If you leave your pen name I will check out some of your fics if I have enough time.
Please review, and as always, LOTR is not mine!