This chapter is short, I apologize. Certain things I wanted to happen will have to do so in other chapters. Something important does happen in this, though, be happy! Lolz! Bai bai!

~Hoshiko

In the Hand of the Uruk-Hai

Darkness. That was all that Param could see, but he could hear a sound. It started in quietly, but it grew quickly. Screaming, someone was screaming his name. Then he could see in front of him the hanging figure of Teredon. He quickly realized that it was Teredon who was screaming his name. Param reached out to him, but he was too late, and Teredon fell into darkness.

            Param woke up with a start, a sharp pain in his head. He could not tell what had woke him up, though, the pain in his head, or the horrid stench. He looked around for a second; his vision blurred, and after a moment realized that he was being carried by an orc. He felt faint again, but the site of his friend Terry woke him again.

'Terry!' he said, but Terry did not stir. 'Terry, wake up!' it did no use though. The orcs kept running, until the one that was carrying Param stopped running.

'We've been running for six stinking days!' he growled at the leader, and Param acted as if he were still unconscious, though he listened. 'My leg's won't move any more.'

'All right, all right, stop your belly-aching!' the leader growled back, and put up his hand, the others stopped. 'Let's make camp, boys!' he cried, and Param and Terry were both dumped on the ground. When he was dropped Param let out an 'oof' and Terry groaned.

'Ooh… my head…' he groaned, and an orc sat itself next to them.

'Not a word out of both of you.' He snapped, 'or both your pretty little hands come off.' This was enough to make them both be quiet. They lay there, Param secretly trying to unbind his hands. He looked down and found that they had not taken their swords or knives, but with his hands he could not reach them. Unable to talk to Terry, nor unbind his hands, he let the inviting darkness take him, and he fell unconcious again.

Again there was darkness, and again someone was calling his name, but it was not his name. There was Teredon again, but he was not hanging from the edge of a cliff. Instead there were three arrows sticking out of him, and he looked at Param with death in his eyes.

'Pippin, I am sorry I have failed you.' He said, and as he died, he faded into darkness.

Param awoke again, cold sweat running down his face. Terry was sitting next to him, putting his hands to his mouth. The orc that had been guarding them was eating with the others.

'Shush, Param, you're being too loud, they'll kill you!' he whispered, and Param squinted at him.

'Merry?' he asked, and Terry shook his head.

'Param, are you all right? I'm Terry, not Merry.'

'No… you're Merry and I'm Pippin… Peregrin Took!' He said.

'Are you mad?' he asked, but Param didn't hear him, because hundreds of memories were coming back to him. When it was done he looked straight ahead of himself. 'Param?'

'You do not remember, do you?'

'Remember what?'

'We've done this before… I used to be Pippin, and you used to be Merry a long, long time ago!' he said, and Terry shook his head.

'You have gone mad…'

'I have not!' Param said, and looked as if he were about to pout. 'You do not remember any thing? Not even Estella?' he said. He could remember how much Estella had meant to Merry when he was Merry. 'How happy you were with her?' he said, and Terry's face twisted into a rather strenuous face.

'Estella?' Terry whispered, and Pippin nodded. 'Fatty's sister…' Param smiled to himself, he could remember now.

'Yes!' he said, and if he were not bound he would have embraced him. 'See? I'm not mad!'

'And right before we died… we went to Rohan… to see Eomer… he had asked us to come…' Terry said, and looked at Param. 'Pip! Oh, my dear lad, I haven't seen you for ages!' he said, and let a tear fall down his cheek. 'And Ondril is Frodo, and Brom is Sam!'

'Your right, they are! Do you think they know?'

'Well, I'm not sure, but from the way they had been acting sense we left Imladris, I wouldn't be surprised. Oh, Terry, you looked exactly as you had before!' Param said, absolutely beside himself.

'So do you, but it seems we've gotten ourselves in the same predicament as last time.' Terry said, looking sadly at his hands.

'Do not complain, we can talk to each other this time.' Param said and Terry agreed.

'Yes, you're r-' he said, but he didn't finish because an orc was coming over to him. He became quiet immediately, and it picked him up.

'Come on, you scum, my turn to carry you now. I don't know why you can't run on your own two feet. If I'm going to carry you I might as well cut your legs off and eat them, you ain't using 'em!' he said, and Terry's eyes widened like plates. The orc did no such thing, though, and another picked Param. 'Honestly, your heavy for such small… tasty little things!' he grumbled, and Param was starting to think they were going to get eaten. He could see it was dawn, and the group started running again.

They had run for half the day, until Param got an idea. He had been trying to remember how he had told Aragorn that he was still living, and he had finally remembered.

'My brooch!' he thought to himself, and with his mouth he took it off and spit it onto the ground. None of the orcs cared or saw, and they simply trampled on it. Terry saw what his older cousin had done, and he smiled at his idea. Even he had not thought of that.

They ran throughout the rest of the day and they stopped again during this night. The leader, whose name was Ocklag, seemed to not even know that they were being tracked. They set up camp again, and this time there was a guard for the two hobbits the whole time. Two of them, and if the hobbits did something as much as breathe heavily, they would taunt them.

'Shut up, you.'

'It's your fault we have to sit here and not eat. Why can't you just walk?'

'Know what looks tasty on them? Their hands, and big feet. I like bony food; gives a nice crunch.' The one next to Param said, and the colour left Param's face.

'I bet their brains are nice a soft. Mmm… I hungry just thinking about it.'

'If their here much longer, maybe Ocklag would let us take a chunk out of them, just to see if their still any good, they look young.' By now, with the two orcs licking their lips and talking of eating them, Param and Terry became very paranoid about keeping body parts.

Other than the low grumbling of the camp, it was a quiet night, and the two fell asleep. Screaming and shouting suddenly awoke them both. Off in the distance they could see the figures of horses.

'Riders of Rohan!' Terry said as orcs rushed past him, he was about to stand when there was an order to 'get the halflings,' he scrambled up, and started dodging orcs and swords.

The horses were closing in on them in their circle, and there was mass confusion throughout the camp. Orcs were getting their swords and things, putting out the fire, not noticing the hobbits. An orc, who could not find his sword, went to the Terry, and roughly took out his knife from Greenwood.

'You're not going to be needing this.' He growled, not even realizing they were trying to escape. They might have been able to escape if Param hadn't stumbled on a rock and fallen. Terry tried to help him up, but it was too late, he was hit over the head and they were grabbed by two orcs, then being carried to Ocklag.

'Come on, their not over here!' he said, and the orcs followed, Param getting a face full of his orc's armpit. He fainted from the stench, and he knew no more.

Terry awoke later, to the rough, painful running of the orc he was on. He near groaned when he did so, but remembered that the orc would probably hit him over the head, again. He had woken slightly before, but they had always made him pass out. This time he stayed still and a little while later, he was dumped on the ground. He sat up quietly, and saw that Param was awake also.

They sat in silence, for they were being even closer watched now. Through their silence, though, there are things that just can not be controlled by the human (or hobbit) will. Through their silence came the unmistakably loud rumble of a hobbit's stomach. The two had not been fed much through out the time that they were awake, and their stomachs could not take it any longer.

'Hey, their hungry.' Ocklag said, and pointed to the two. 'Feed 'em.'

'What?'

'Feed 'em! We're not outa food, and the Old Man want's them alive.' He said, and Param's orc, whose name was Hukgug, threw a piece of moldy bread, and a bowl of, what looked like, muddy water. Being offered nothing else, Terry and Param picked up the bread with both hands, and ate as much as they could. Remembering what they had been given to drink last time, they just eyed it wearily.

'Stop yer belly-aching.' Wagnut, Terry's orc, said, 'it's just from the river.' Param then took it up slowly, and drank it, finding it was only water. Terry drank his too, and their stomachs were fuller than they had been for a week.

'Ocklag, where we going next?'

'Straight to Mordor, you idiot. I've told you that twelve times already. It'll take another week.' Ocklag growled back, and Terry and Param could feel their faces going pale and they looked at each other. Mordor was not where they wanted to go.