Chapter 4

No Signs of Life

Nothing.

Legolas had been on guard for several hours now, but there was nothing that had caused a threat to his three sleeping companions or himself. He hadn't woken Aragorn to take his watch, though the Elf's turn should have ended hours ago, but he saw no reason to disturb the ranger when he himself felt no weariness.

He looked down at his friends, all so peaceful in slumber. He had to choke back a laugh as he noticed Gimli's thumb in his mouth. That could be a useful bribe in the future.

It was odd having Mithrandir with them again after his abrupt departure, yet very comforting. That too was strange. There had been a time, not so long ago, when all he had needed to feel safe was his bow. Now he could hardly remember the last time he had felt completely secure and protected. But now, even Aragorn seemed easier since they had been reunited yesterday; like a weight had been slightly lifted off him. He wished he could get news to Frodo of Gandalf. The hobbit had been the most distraught of all of them after Moria.

He breathed in the cool night air, his thoughts drifting to Merry and Pippin. He had hoped the wizard would have had some idea of their whereabouts, but Gandalf had been just as confused as them. They had lost the tracks in Fangorn and had been unable to discover which route the hobbits and Orcs had taken. Even from here, on a small hill by the Entwash, the Elf couldn't make out the band.

Sighing, Legolas lowered his eyes from the heavens to wonder at the stars of Elbereth mirrored in the waters, crystallized in the moonlight.

"A Elbereth Gilthoniel,

silivren penna míri..."

The singing was hurriedly cut off though. Legolas' eyes had caught something on the banks below. Why had he not seen it before? It was wrapped in something that hid it from even his view. Most likely, it was probably just some debris washed up on the shore, yet something about its shape seemed oddly familiar somehow.

Curiosity won over apathy. He crouched and touched his friend's shoulder. "Aragorn, wake up," he whispered so as not to disturb either Dwarf or wizard.

Aragorn, however, sat up wide eyed with a hand on his sword as though the elf had shouted 'Orcs' in his ear. "What is it Legolas? Did I oversleep? Are enemy upon us?"

"Nothing of the sort, my friend." Legolas was slightly surprised by the reaction he had received, yet kept his voice light and airy. "It may just be flotsam from upstream, but I can see a small shape by the water. Could you watch for a short time while I take a closer look? Something about it seems strange to me."

"Of course; my sleep was troubled anyway. Take your bow and call if any thing is amiss." A rather bleary eyed Dúnadan seated himself against a rock, wrapping his blanket around his shoulders.

"Thank you. I will not be more than a few minutes. Send out search parties if I'm not back in couple weeks." Legolas grinned, trying to brush off the last of his worry about Aragorn. He rose, taking his bow from where it lay and swung up onto Arod. He spoke a few words in an undertone to the horse and it set of down the hill without any further direction from its rider.

Away behind him, Legolas heard a pipe being lit and smiled to himself. These children and their pipes! It wouldn't last long he was sure; another couple of hundred years and smoking would be a thing belong only to distant memory

As he came to the waters edge he saw why the bundle had been so hard to distinguish: it was covered in grey material that seemed to shift its hue to blend with its surroundings. Suddenly, recognition sparked in his brain and realization hit him hard. That material was the exact same as the cloaks worn by all the fellowship who had passed through Lorien.

The size of the bundle meant it could only be one of four people and two of them were at least a hundred miles from here by now. Terror gripped him and he wished could run, to not have to know which of his friends lay here. Yet duty and loyalty stopped him. Slowly, shaking slightly Legolas dismounted, bent down and turned over the limp body. He felt dampness on his cheek he had not felt for nigh on a millennia.

Pippin's white face stared up at him. It was covered in cuts and bruises and both eyes were red slits. His left arm lay at an odd angle and on closer inspection Legolas found the bone was now sticking out of the skin just below the elbow. There were blisters round the hobbits ankles and wrists and there was a small gash on the side of his neck. Despite all this, the thing that chilled the Elf to his marrow was how strangely peaceful his looked; like he had finally be released from great sorrows and could finally rest.

Legolas wept. True he had seen injuries far worse than these, but it seemed so wrong for a hobbit to be wounded at all. Curse this war! Curse the Uruk-hai and all their masters who spawned them! It seemed impossible, to his mind, that elves and Orcs had ever been the same species.

He laid his ear to Pippin's chest and his heart leapt for joy as he heard the faint whisper of a heartbeat; yet no breath escaped from the mouth.

Carefully, so as not to jolt the maimed arm, he gathered Pippin's tiny body into his arms and set him in front of him on Arod.

He galloped wildly back to Aragorn, who now stood anxiously on the hilltop to see what caused the Elf's hurry. "He is not breathing! His heart is still beating, but his lungs must be full of water." Fear and anger made Legolas' voice come in gasps as he passed the oblivious hobbit into the ranger's hands.

"Pippin?!" A look of utter disbelief spread across Aragorn's face as he was hit by his companion's condition. Forcing emotion back, with some difficulty, he quickly took command of himself; and the situation.

"Gimli!" he called, "Gimli, wake up! Get a fire start. Legolas, find some dry clothes. Look in Gimli's pack. They'll be closest to Peregrin's size. Gandalf, please look in my pack and find the last of the athelas." The whole camp was in action in a matter of seconds, hastily doing as the future king instructed.

Aragorn laid Pippin on his back, careful of the badly broken arm, placed one hand on top of the other near the heart and started to pump, trying to force the water out of the inactive lungs. To his distress he felt a broken rib under his fingers yet didn't stop; better broken bones than death.

Legolas watched, holding one of Gimli's smaller shirts and breaches. He bit his lip as he saw the skin around Pip's lips turn decidedly blue. He was about to speak, when suddenly the hobbit's eyes stretched opened wide and frightened.

Pippin retched, choking on each breath he hauled into his aching lungs. He felt acute pain in every corner of his body and strong hands holding him steady. "Merry. Merry, help!" he croaked. He wanted his cousin in the midst of his anguish. He shivered with cold as his wet clothes clung to his skin. A fog clouded his eyes yet he could see distant shapes before him. "Merry!" he called out again this time more loudly. "Please where are you?"

"Hush lad. Everything will be well now," said a gentle voice. Somewhere at the back of his brain he felt vaguely as it he should recognise it, yet he couldn't put a face to it. "This is going to hurt, my boy, but it will be over in a second." And, before Pippin could take in what had been said, he screamed in pain. Agony ripped through his arm. It was torture beyond anything he had ever known. He felt something being tied tight around the source of his grief and the pain lessened a bit though the throbbing in his chest was almost unbearable.

"There, everything's alright, little one."

He heard something being crushed above him, then a sweet fragrance filled his nose and mouth, soothing him and leaving his brain clearer. Athelas! The remembrance of it took him back to their camp under Weathertop Hill. It was hardly a pleasant memory, yet it was still a memory and that somehow oddly comforting.

The mist in front of his eyes pulled back and just above him he saw a face he would always associate with healing herbs. "Strider?" It took all his strength to say the one word.

"Yes, Pippin, I am here. Relax. You are safe now."

He felt his clothes being removed and being replaced with dry ones. A pillow was placed under his head and a blanket wrapped round him. Yet his mind still wouldn't hold still. "Merry... Frodo... Sam..?" was all he could manage through gasps for oxygen.

A shadow passed over Aragorn's features as he spoke, "Frodo and Sam are on their way to Mordor; as far we can distinguish. We last saw them at Parth Galen. And Merry...," he faltered unsure of how to tell Pippin this. He had expected the hobbit to know of the whereabouts of his friend. "We...we haven't found Merry. You were the last to see him."

"No!" moaned the broken hobbit pitifully as dreadful memories pushed in on his already aching mind. "The Uruks...they'll have almost reached Isengard by now. They'll kill him when they find out; or worse!"

"What?" asked the ranger, fear filling his eyes.

"They thought we had the Ring. They were taking us to Saruman. They'll torture him for information about Frodo when they find he hasn't got it."

Aragorn felt as if a bucket of freezing water had been emptied over his head and the horror of realization made his heart stop for an instant. How could he have let this happen? Concentrate! He must see to his casualty now; there would be time later to censure himself.

"Sleep now, Pippin. Don't worry. Your Merry is made of stronger stuff than he looks, he will be well." He was disgusted with himself for blatantly lying to Pippin. His charge, however, appeared not to notice the falsehood and took the ranger's advice; though his young features remained troubled.

"How will he be?" Gandalf appeared next to Aragorn's shoulder concern etched into every line of his aged face. "Now do I wish more than ever I could take back my words in Moria. This Took is anything but foolish."

"He will mend with time, as all his kind seems to do with an uncanny aptness; though he will never be the same if we do not recover Meriadoc. But we have no time. We are needed in Edoras and we will have a battle to fight in the near future, unless I am much mistaken. Much as it grieves me, I do not believe we can continue the search for Merry without risking the future of Rohan; indeed the whole of Middle-earth."

Legolas raised his head, eyes wide. He could not allow this to happen. He could not let these two hobbits be tortured in such ways. It would inevitably cause both their deaths. Pippin would not last long if he gave up hope of Merry's survival. Besides, if Merry cracked under torture, as everyone did in the end no matter how strong their spirit was, the whole quest could be laid bare before Sauron and an end brought more fully than any he dared to imagine.

But what Aragorn said was true also. The future king of Gondor would be needed in the coming days; as would be Gandalf. There was no other way. "I will go," he heard himself say and instantly felt three pairs of eyes fix on him. "I will continue the search for Merry while you journey to Edoras. You will have Gimli and therefore no lack of weaponry."

"Nay Master Elf," exclaimed Gimli, "if you will go gallivanting all over this country then I will certainly be accompanying you! Who knows what sort of trouble an elf could get himself into around here; and I shall insist on being part of it."

"My dear dwarf, do not be so stubborn," replied Legolas in mock annoyance. "You must go with Aragorn and teach the Rohirrim to speak more highly of the Lady Galadriel. Besides I will go faster with just myself, though I must beg leave to take Pippin with me, Aragorn, for he may be of some help."

"I am uncomfortable with you facing the Uruk-hai alone, be you the best archer in Middle-earth or no, Legolas. We do not know how many there may be and it would be a great comfort to have you with me in battle." Aragorn's voice contained deep worry which he failed to conceal.

"I take no such flattery, Aragorn, and I am very sensible of your unease with this idea, but I refuse to give up on our companion until all hope of his retrieval has gone. However, I will not take Pippin if you think it damage his recovery."

There were a few moments silence while Aragorn tried to find the lesser of the mounting evils before him. Finally he said, "Take Pippin with you. He will have to see fighting whoever takes him. Search for Merry but, please do not put yourself or Pippin in any unnecessary danger. If you have not returned within a fortnight then we will presume the worst. I can make you no promise of where we will be by then and I can only pray to the Valar that you will find us."

"Thank you. I will, at the very least, to return this hobbit to you safe and well." The Elf turned hastily began to gather his things before Aragorn could realise he had not promised to keep himself out of danger. He mounted Arod and Gandalf placed the sleeping hobbit in front of him.

"Be careful, Legolas Greenleaf. Saruman is more cunning and corrupt than we dare to imagine and he will not take kindly to any interference with his plans. He will not think twice about removing the Prince of the Greenwood should he even suspect your presence."

"Don't worry, Mithrandir, I promise I will not endanger our young friends." He avoided Aragorn's scowl as he again made no assurances for his own safety. With that, he turned Arod about and with the lightest touch of his hand galloped away from his friends, clutching his passenger tightly to his stomach to stop him being thrown off.

For the second time, in the space of an hour, he felt tears forming in the corners of his eyes. What was happening to him? He had never been one to express his emotions too much, it was dangerous when one felt so much and lived for so long, but now it came so naturally. "Too long around men and dwarves" he thought with a grim smile. He tasted salt water and wiped his face with his sleeve.

Though no-one had actually said it out loud he knew they had all thought the same thing as they parted. When they next met, whenever that may be, it was all too likely that some of their number would missing. Pushing that thought roughly away, Legolas turned his mind to the task in hand. He followed the course of the Entwash north; back towards Fangorn. To the west he could see the morning's sun reflecting off the pinnacle of Orthanc rising like a black giant out from behind the mountains.