CHAPTER ELEVEN: Into the fire

It had been forever and a day since they had first left the Shire, but now the three hobbits did not regret stepping foot out of their precious hobbit holes. This adventure proved to be once in a lifetime, especially after the finding of the wine cart. Merry would let none touch the barrels save himself, insisting they would not drink a drop until they have arrived home with Pippin by their side.

And so, they traveled stray from the East-West road, continuing their search for their lost friend. Not even the continuous screeching noises heard in the faraway distances wavered the hope that the hobbits showed, though Sam grew more and more edgier by the moment. "I don't think it's very safe here," he warned his companions, his instincts screaming danger in his mind. "Those noises make me nervous, and you know what my Gaffer says: 'Always--' "

"Your Gaffer also said 'A closed mouth gathers no foot,' " Merry snapped. "Those screeches are probably from distant hawks communicating. There's nothing else that can possibly go wrong. We have faced all possible evils, from dragons to drunken Bree men to shifty-eyed crows. Next thing you're going to say is that we're going to confront talking, moving trees, water that can show the future, and even some form of jewelry that posses all who touch it. Sam, your imagination is beyond my comprehension."

Sam shrugged. "My Gaffer never said that," he muttered to himself and returned his eyes to the horizon. Although Merry's lecture shut him up good, he decided to keep up his guard nevertheless.

Sensing the tension building between the two hobbits, Frodo decided it best to take a short break. "Look, there's a cave up ahead. Let's stop in there, I think our horse is getting tired," he suggested. "Rest would do us all some good."

They all nodded in agreement and Frodo drove the cart towards the far away cave. It was a complete coincidence that clouds began building up above them as they drew nearer to it, and even more of a fluke when the moment they entered the cave was when it started pouring buckets.

"Aren't you glad we stopped, Mister Frodo?" Sam smiled as he broke off a piece of dry hard bread and handed it to him.

Frodo stared at the large drops of rain crashing onto the forest ground from the shelter of the cave. "Yes, Sam… but I don't want to stay here for long."

"He's right," Merry piped in, gnawing on his own piece of bread thoughtfully. "I have this strange feeling that Pippin is in trouble, and it hurts for me to merely sit here and wait."

"We cannot save Pippin if we all die of the cold," Sam argued.

Merry didn't have a chance to reply, because the hungry carthorse had stolen the bread straight from his hands and swallowed it whole. Deciding that in a brawl between a hobbit and a full-grown horse, the latter would most likely be the victor, Merry let it casually slide. "I'm going out to scout the area," he announced as he stood up and clutched his cloak tighter.

The two hobbits and even the horse suddenly froze. "Are you mad?" Frodo asked, storming up to Merry. "It's raining frogs and toads out there. You'll come back as a walking ice sculpture!"

"And it's not safe!" Sam added. "There are witches, goblins, ghosts, spiders, clowns, flesh-eating plants, insects the size of ponies--"

The hobbit shook his head. "It's better than staying in this cave and sitting on our behinds, waiting for the time to pass. Maybe I'll find some landmarks or something to check if we're on the right track," he offered. "Besides, I could use the thinking time."

It was a common trait of the Brandybucks to be as stubborn as mules, and Frodo knew there was nothing he could do to change his mind. Nodding slowly, Frodo reluctantly let him go. "If you don't come back within an hour, we'll come looking for you," he said.

Without a goodbye, Merry walked out into the rain, the drops beating down on his shoulders like rocks. He soon disappeared from their sight without a trace. It was as if he was never there in the first place. "I have a bad feeling about this," Sam muttered to himself as he exchanged a nervous look with the horse.

The horse grunted in agreement, and they all waited eagerly for Merry's return.

Merry didn't mind the fact that it was cold. He didn't mind the fact that he was drenched from head to toe either. His mind didn't allow him to feel the icy cold, for it was far too busy racing through the many thoughts that plagued him. Never had he left the comfort of the Shire for so long, nor the side of his dearest cousin.

What if Pippin was dead? What if the dragon had eaten him, like what Illi-- Illither-- the elf they had met earlier said? Then their search would all be in vain. What if they had taken a wrong turn, and had missed Pippin while doing so? What if--

The hobbit shook his head furiously, not only to rid of some of the rain from his hair, but also to rid his mind from the horrid pessimism. If they were going to find their dear friend, they would need hope. But it was easier said than done. Hope was so easy to let slip through their fingers.

Consuming a barrel of wine seemed the best idea to do at the moment. After all, it was one of his many mottos: alcohol was the often the creator of --and solution to-- many of life's problems. It was too bad that he had promised himself not to drink any of the wine without Pippin by his side.

In his despair, Merry did not pay too much attention to where he was stepping. One false step sent him flying towards the muddy floor, a depressing splat-sound following. Spitting out a mouthful of mud, Merry pushed himself up when he heard a groan that emerged from underneath him.

He froze in fear. Since when did dirt groan? The hobbit looked underneath him, and much to his surprise, found a limp tiny body beneath him. Another groan escaped from its mouth as Merry scrambled to its side, and rolled it over so it lay on his back. Wiping some dirt off its face, Merry's jaw dropped when he recognized the face of the unconscious being belonging to the lost hobbit. He had found him.

"Good gracious!" Merry exclaimed. "It's YOU!"

Pippin did not reply.

Immediately, Merry grasped his friend's hand and was shocked to feel that it was ice cold. His lips were an unnatural blue shade, and his skin was a deathly white. "Pippin, can you hear me!?" Merry exclaimed, shaking his friend's shoulders.

When there was no response, the hobbit took action. He lifted his friend in his arms and trudged quickly back to the cave, a million more things racing in his mind. Surprisingly, Pippin was a lot lighter than he had last known. It was not a good sign.

But Merry had found hope once again, and wasn't about to let it go as easily as before. His heart began beating faster and faster, and a mysterious warmth kept him going in spite of the pouring rain and the slippery mud beneath him. Strangely, Merry forgot that it was freezing outside. He had stopped shivering as he jogged on the muddy tracks, and could focus only on one thing: to get Pippin to safety.

"Don't worry, Pip'," he spoke aloud. "We're going to make it through this. I'm sorry I made you raid the crops with me. If I knew that you were going to be kidnapped, I would have never done it."

He didn't know if the unconscious hobbit could hear him, but he kept talking anyway. "I'm so sorry about everything," he apologized again, feeling a large uncomfortable lump form in his throat. "I'm sorry. It's my fault you're in this mess. I'm sorry. It isn't fair for you… I'm so sorry." He managed to catch a short glimpse at his cold friend in his arms, but then a giant shock hit him so suddenly that Merry almost froze in his feet.

If Pippin did not get help soon, he might not make it. It didn't help that it was still raining horridly, and both were soaking wet. Merry recovered and quickened his steps as much as he could, ignoring the fact that he could feel Pippin slowly slipping away in his arms. "Stay with me, you stupid Took," Merry ordered. "If you die on me, I'll kill you!"

A small glint of light appeared in the distance. After ruling out the possibility of it being a mirage, Merry instantly recognized it as the small fire Sam and Frodo had started in the cave. "Hey!" he screamed, hoping to get their attention.

It worked. Both hobbits lifted their heads to see the faraway Merry stumble towards him, carrying something awfully limp in his arms. Sam stood up slowly, and felt a wide grin grow on his face as soon as he realized what the Brandybuck brought back.

"He found him!" Sam exclaimed, jumping up and down in delight. "He found him!"

Frodo squinted to get a clearer view of the approaching hobbit. The heavy rain was blurring much of his vision, but there was a small glint of hope inside Frodo that told him what Merry was carrying towards them. "You don't mean…" he started, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.

"Yes!" Sam interrupted. "Pippin! He found Pippin!"

Merry was now glad of the rain, for it served well to conceal his tears that were now pouring endlessly down his cheeks. If the tears were of happiness for finding his friend or from despair for realizing that he might lose him, Merry could not decide. Collapsing onto the ground as soon as he reached the warm little cave, the hobbit felt a strange dizziness overwhelm his body and head. Much to his discontent, his legs suddenly regained feelings of soreness and pain, and the icy chills returned.

"Get them some soup!" Sam ordered as he rushed to their sides. "Blankets! Dry clothes! Hurry!"

Frodo was slightly taken by the change of the gardener's role, but obeyed anyway. Both hobbits were dried off the best they could by the fire, wrapped tightly in the thick blankets, and soup was placed over the tiny fire to be heated. Merry had recovered quickly, and was soon sitting upright next to Pippin, eagerly awaiting his awakening.

"He's going to be alright," Merry muttered to himself as he stared at the motionless hobbit. The words brought him no confidence.

Exchanging nervous looks, Sam and Frodo began to lose faith. They did not know how long Pippin had been in the cold. Somehow sensing this, Merry tore his gaze away from his limp friend and blinked as his eyes met those of Frodo. "He's going to be alright," he told him, but his shaking voice gave him away.

He chose not to answer. Frodo turned away guiltily, finding sudden great interest in the dirt below.

Merry turned to Sam, who gave the same wordless response. "No," the Brandybuck sobbed as he turned back to his friend. "You're alive, I know it. You're going to make it, you always do." A part of him wished deeply that Pippin would give some sign of life, a nod, a sigh, a cough, anything, but the more logical part of Merry knew it wouldn't happen.

"You stupid Took," Merry spat as he curled up closer to his friend, now allowing the tears to freely run down his cheeks like rivers. "Of all the times you choose to die, it had to be tonight."

He gave a long sigh, and wiped his running nose with the back of his sleeve subconsciously. "You could have died when we tried to invent a flying device by tying you to a kite and tossing you off a cliff, but no," he continued. "You could have died when you dropped your torch in the ale cellar and set it completely ablaze, but no. You could have died when we wanted to see how long you could stay riding on that crazy untamed pony of Sam's, but no. I told you I'm sorry already, isn't that enough?!"

Frodo dazed out for the moment. He himself could not believe what had just happened. Why couldn't he cry? He was sad, he knew that much, but his eyes were as dry as bone. Pippin and the three had been through so much together, to give up on him seemed the wrong thing to do. Unfortunately, there wasn't any point in having false hopes.

"He's… gone," Frodo whispered, then bowed his head sadly.

"Oh, Pippin," Sam mumbled as he took the hobbit's limp hand in his own. A long moment of silence passed. None knew what to say, but all was understood. The quiet sobs that echoed in the small cave were deafening.

It was Sam who broke the silence with a confused grunt, and a small glance at Frodo. "His hand…" he started, but couldn't find the words. "It's… his hand is… he squeezed my hand."

He paused in surprise, but quickly concealed his shock. "Are you sure?" Frodo asked.

"… Positive."

Merry leaned over to get a better view, and suddenly his face lit up like a child in a candy store. "Color is returning to his face!" he exclaimed, practically leaping up in joy. Unfortunately, his fatigue stopped him from doing so.

"Pippin!" Sam said, tapping the hobbit on the cheek gently. "Awaken! Give me a sign of life!"

The Took groaned softly and turned his head away.

"He's ALIVE!" Frodo and Merry screamed at the same time, and then threw themselves into each other's arms in a giant hug. Wide smiles replaced their cheerless expressions. To Merry, it felt as if someone had lifted a giant boulder that weighed down on his chest, preventing him from breathing. Pippin was alive. He had not heard news as good as this in his entire life.

All the cheering and celebrating disrupted the Took's attempt at sleep. Pippin managed to open one tired eye to see Sam hovering above him, crying his tears of joy. "S…Sam?" he croaked, his voice dry and hoarse.

"Yes, yes, it's me! You're with us now!" the gardener exclaimed happily. Then, he turned to Frodo and said with an intimidating commanding tone, "Where's that soup? The poor hobbit needs food! He's so thin he'll soon disappear!"

Frodo turned his head to the fire, and was surprised to see a dark figure towering over the small pot of soup they had set over it. Frowning, he turned his attention back to Sam. "I'd give you the soup if you get that fat horse will get out of the way!" he snapped back.

Raising his head, Sam turned and faced the horse. He stared blankly at the animal standing nervously at the entrance of the cave, as if ready to dart away any second. "Frodo, our horse isn't anywhere near the fire," he pointed out.

Everyone paused to turn and stare at the dark figure. Sam's heartbeat quickened when he saw two gleaming eyes stare back at him evilly, sending deathly chills down his spine. "That's not a horse…" he heard Frodo whisper.

The figure took a huge leap from the fire to the four hobbits with one amazing bound. It landed gracefully with less than a sound, and screeched loudly at its new victims while baring its sharp fangs. Drool dripped from its mouth greedily as the hobbits realized what new foe with which they were forced to compete.

"GOBLIN!" Merry screamed, turning around to run for his life.