Merry took a blow from a furious Uruk whose arm he had split in the fighting, and after that things were a daze. His vision went red with trickles of blood filling his eyes, and his world was nothing but dull pain, despair, and the sound and stench of a hundred uruks as they carried him away with them.
Nothing filtered through the haze of grief and pain until he was thrown down the first night and the uruks were joined by a group of orcs who had trailed behind after the battle.
There was a thump near him, and then a familiar voice, panicked, made him start. "Merry!"
He opened his stinging eyes and through blurred red he could see the face of his cousin. "Pip." His voice was low and weak and sounded nothing at all like him.
"Merry!" Pippin looked around and lowered his voice. "Merry, you're hurt. You're bleeding everywhere!"
"It doesn't matter," Merry said dully, shutting his eyes again to close away the stinging. "They killed him."
"Killed him? Killed who?" Pip's warm little body nestled beside him, and Merry could feel the rough cords that bound his wrists the way they bound Merry's.
"Boromir," Merry answered dully.
Pippin breathed out. "Oh, Merry. But it's you I must worry about now. Your poor head."
"I can't even feel it," Merry said quietly. "Don't worry about me."
Pip was silent then, but his close and clinging weight told Merry he wasn't going to stop his worry. Awkward wrapped hands came up and tried to brush away some of the blood trickling over Merry's eyes. "Don't give up on me, please. We're here together in this horrible place and these filthy things have us, and I couldn't survive it if you were to give up and leave me alone."
Merry's eyes opened at that, and tears streaked red with blood went down his cheeks. "Pippin." The tears cleared his vision, and he saw his cousin's worried young face. He leaned in and buried his face against Pip's chest. "I won't give up," he said even as he sobbed.