Riding along in the middle of the small group of orcs, Merry shifted in his saddle. He winced slightly – the hobbit was very sore. Then, Meriadoc looked down at his wrists and saw blood drip from them. Slowly, he closed his eyes. The sight of the blood and his pounding head made him feel queasy. When the orc had stroked his head, Merry had received large gash on his head, so not only he had a headache, he also had a throbbing wound. "I promised." Merry whispered, but it was not loud enough for the orcs to hear.
The hobbit shifted again and looked around him. There were about twenty orc around him. Most all of them seemed to be getting tired.
"Let's stop." One called out. He was a smaller orc and even seemed to be younger. Looking hopefully at the rest of the group, he paused.
"No," another growled. This one was larger. He was particularly ugly, even for an orc. This orc also stopped and faced the smaller one.
"Yes," the first one hissed. The little orc looked all most pathetic. He was squirming slightly and the orc looked nervous.
"No," the other one shouted. Seeming to grow and tower above them all. He was truly frightening. The second orc shrank down slightly, but then suddenly, he sprang upon the larger, scary orc.
The two orcs started to brawl violently. They punched each other in the face repeatedly. The jagged armor cut their faces, which sent black blood flying. A few drops hit Merry's' face and the hobbit grimaced.
"Stop it!" the leader yelled. He was massive. In fact, this orc was bigger and uglier than all of the orcs, even the particularly ugly one. "We will stop."
Two other orcs pulled the brawling creatures apart with little trouble trouble. After the fighting orcs were pulled apart, the convoy of orcs started to unpack some of their things. A few of them, mainly the two who had just been fighting, were grumbling as they did. The orcs left Merry by himself – they seemed to have forgotten him. No one was standing watch over him, which was a little absurd to Meriadoc. When the grumbling had subsided, the orcs began to eat the rancid and maggoty meat that they carried with them. After they had eaten, the group of orcs dozed off. Now's my chance, he thought with a weak smile.
Merry pressed his legs to Shasta's side which made her start to trot. "Good girl," Merry whispered, feeling very pleased that he had gotten himself out of this trouble.
He turned his head when the orcs began to stir. "Hey! The mealy half-ling is getting away," Merry heard one of them say and the hobbit gulped. To hasten the pony, the hobbit pressed harder against the sides of the pony. However, the orcs were swifter and had reached Merry's side in three strides. As the group treaded over the trotting pony, they drew their swords. The closest orc, the leader, held two weapons. One of which had been Merry's sword and the other looked sickening familiar.
"Oh so yeh try to get away, eh?" the lead orc growled, "Not on my watch. You will never run…again, dog." He swung a deadly weapon and it connected with his side. Merry felt white-hot pain come over him and heard the orcs laugh. Taking Merry's sword, he stuck it into Shasta's side. The pony quickly fell, but before she landed on the hard ground, Merry rolled off the steed and into the bush.
"Do we leave 'im?" the small orc asked.
"Aye," the leader said, "He won' be alive fer long."
The orcs laughed cruelly. They sauntered off without another look behind them. Merry was quickly forgotten in their minds.
The hobbit lay in the dirt and under the bush he had rolled under. His brown eyes were closed and his face was drawn. Blood streaked down his face and into his eyes and mouth and down his neck. The feeling of the cold, sticky substance drenching him was horrible and sickening. He took in slow uneven breaths that rattled in his lungs. Fear and darkness began to plague his mind. Merry had naught an idea what to do or what would happen and it terrified him. Staying under this bush was not an option. If Meriadoc was to survive, he would need to be seen. It did not occur to the wounded hobbit that he could be revealed to some being that was bad.
Slowly he opened his eyes and made his way over to the closest tree. It took all the strength he had, but he managed, though just barely. Merry leaned against the tree, closed his eyes, and concentrated on breathing. It hurt to do so and the breath rattled in his lungs. Trying to get a feel for where he was, the hobbit looked around with dim eyes that looked like muddy puddles – they were not his usual bright, sparkling brown eyes. All the hobbit saw were trees, brush and plains. Then, after he tired of looking at the scenery, Merry looked down at his side and saw that he had a deep wound. When he saw it, he sucked in air in surprise and coughed hard.
Blood tricked out of the injury and puddle around him. "Oh dear." he whispered, "What will be come of me?"
Merry closed his eyes, sighed slightly and shifted. The bark was digging into his back and it was rubbing him sore. Slowly the hobbit sank into a sitting position and closed his eyes. For a few minutes, he dozed. Wearily, after his quick nap, the hobbit opened his eyes and checked on his wound. The bleeding had mostly stopped and only a little blood came from the gash. He sighed. That was good thing.
Merry felt himself fading, falling, into cold, pain and finally death. He had no fear of any of those things and that scared him. In fact, the no fear he felt confused him - he should be scared to die, Merry knew, but he wasn't. The hobbit felt a strange calm come over him. He had always thought he would be panicked when it was his time, but he was far from it. He felt a knot settle in his stomach. What it was, Merry was not sure. Sadness came over him and the hobbit sniffed and winced – even sniffing hurt. He closed his eyes feeling so tired, but quickly Meriadoc opened them. Merry blinked and looked around again as the sun slowly rose. "I must keep awake," he mumbled and he started to hum quietly to himself. The hum was comforting. It was almost like a lullaby, Merry thought, which brought him back to the subject of sleep He wanted to do that so badly, but he knew he shouldn't or couldn't - least not yet.
As he finished humming, he thought about Stella. Oh how he wished to hold her in his arms right then. She would make everything all right. She always did. A small smile spread onto his face as he thought about, but it faded though. He would never see her again, it dawned on him, nor would he see Pippin.
