&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Pippin woke with an unpleasant jolt.

He opened his eyes, and found himself yet again in an uncomfortable situation. Though they had moved to a new spot, there were still about sixty orcs milling around, making a quick camp and fighting over food. Pippin rolled onto his stomach and looked around for his companions.

Merry was only a few yards away, lying between two huge orc guards. Pippin shuddered and turned away, searching for Aragorn. Pippin had hardly caught a glimpse of him all day, and he wanted to be sure that nothing had happened. He knew that they were wanted alive for some evil purpose, but after this morning, he wasn't sure that Strider would fare well on this trip.

/Flashback/

They had only been resting a few minutes when Ugluk had approached them. The three of them were awake and Merry and Pippin looked at the orc with wide, frightened eyes. But Aragorn glared back at him without a trace of fear.

"Now what do you want of us?" Strider had asked loudly. Pippin gaped at him, surprised. He didn't think, of all things, that Strider would be taunting the orcs!

Neither did Ugluk. He growled and replied by giving Aragorn a heavy kick to the stomach. Aragorn instantly doubled over, gasping for breath. Ugluk turned to the hobbits.

"Now," he sneered. "If no one else has any stupid questions, we're leaving. But be helpful now. No yelling, no trying to escape. We have ways of making you pay." At this he eyed Aragorn. "Ufthak! Lagdur! Magdush! Give it to them and get them ready to leave!"

Without a second glance he left, instantly replaced by three burly orcs. The first one reached for Merry, who instantly recoiled. But the orc didn't care. He seized Merry's arm, cut the bonds around his legs, and stood him up. Merry fell over. The orc growled with annoyance and shoved a flask into Merry's mouth. At this Aragorn had sat up and begun struggling to get to him, but Merry had no choice but to swallow. He felt the brew travel through him, replacing the pain in his numb legs with blazing energy. Merry was stood up again and pushed to the side. Pippin was treated in the same fashion.

Now it was Aragorn's turn. Two of the orc seized his arms from behind and yanked him upright, while the third cut the ropes around his legs. At this move, Aragorn stifled a moan and slumped slightly. The other orcs only tightened their hold on his wounded arms. Pippin saw a trace of agony flicker across his face, quickly replaced by a grim glare, which he aimed at the nearest orc. The orc recoiled slightly, but responded by shoving the flask into Aragorn's mouth. At first Aragorn struggled to get away, but the orc punched him again in the midsection, allowing the drink to pass through his throat. The orc wasn't satisfied. He grabbed Aragorn's throat and whispered something in his ear that Pippin could not catch. Aragorn's tough façade did not budge, and he was shoved back with the others, gasping for breath.

Soon after that they were moving. Aragorn was in the front, Pippin around the middle, and Merry in the last row. But after about two hours, Pippin found it harder and harder to keep up as the liquor fueling him gave out. Suddenly he stumbled. An orc picked him up, inserted his head between Pippin's bound hands, and continued running. Pippin had shut his eyes and slipped into dark dreams.

/End flashback/

Pippin had not seen Aragorn since, and he didn't know if anything had happened, and frankly, he didn't know what to expect. He scanned the remainder of the camp, a feeling of dread growing inside him. Suddenly he caught a glimpse of a small group of orcs not too far away from him. There were about six of them and they were gathered around something that Pippin couldn't see.

He was jerked out of his thoughts by a rough kick in the leg. An orc threw some hard bread and a strip of dried meat, then walked away. Pippin eyed the meat with distrust and nibbled the bread. When he turned back the group of orcs had dispersed, leaving behind a still figure.

'Oh no' Pippin said softly.

"What?" A voice interrupted. Merry appeared at Pippin's shoulders, clutching his meager supper.

"Merry?" said Pippin astonished. "H-how did you get here? Didn't your guards- Merry shrugged.

"They just gave me this" he indicated his bread "and I just crawled over here. Anyway, what's wrong? You looked terrified." Merry paused and looked at Pippin expectantly.

"Ara-, Strider looks…I don't know, but I think he's hurt. Look, he's not moving. And I don't think he's been given anything either." Merry looked at Aragorn's still form and contemplated.

"Do you think we could give him some of ours?" Merry asked slowly. Pippin brightened.

"Yes! That's what we'll do. I'll give him mine and we'll share yours." Merry nodded in agreement.

Pippin glanced nervously at the menacing guards above him, and began to inch forward.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Aragorn lay still, trying to move as little as possible.

Now not only his arms ached with a passion, but his whole body seemed to recently be used for a troll's sofa.

He had been running all day, and whenever he stumbled, he simply received a kick, or cut across the back. But that did not help his running, and as soon as they had stopped, the orcs had shoved him to the ground, jarring his arrow wound, and tightly rebound his legs.

Since then, he had been trying to find the least painful way to put himself, but he had been so far unsuccessful. All of a sudden an orc walked up to him.

"Oh, look at the poor tark. Looks like he's in a bit of pain, lads!" He tweaked the arrow still protruding from Aragorn's shoulder, emitting a sharp gasp of pain, but nothing else. Aragorn glared at him with cold fury in his eyes.

"Leave me." He whispered, wishing he didn't feel so weak. The orc laughed, and several more joined him, gathering around Aragorn.

"The filth thinks he can order us around! What say we teach him a lesson, eh?" The orcs shouted their approval, and crowded in, eager to have their say. Aragorn closed his eyes.

Almost fifteen minutes later, Ugluk was patrolling the camp. The two hobbits had been fed, but where was the other? Cursing violently, he stalked across the camp to where the crowd of orcs was.

"Get of it! What do you think you're doing?" He shouted, drawing his sword and slashing occasionally at the gathering orcs. They immediately dispersed, rid of their fun, and rushed off, not willing to be caught by their fierce captain. "Yeah, you better run! And don't let me catch you at it again, unless you're ordered to!"

Ugluk glanced at the man. He was lying motionless on the ground, but the orc's keen night eyes could detect his chest rising up and down. Satisfied, he resumed his patrol, leaving the prisoner behind.

Pippin swallowed worriedly. Aragorn had not moved at all, and Pippin couldn't tell if he was breathing, since he was lying with his face pointed away.

At last he approached Aragorn's still form. The hobbit carefully put down the bread and reached out to clasp Aragorn's cold hands.

"Strider, Strider wake up! Are you alright? Strider?" Now seriously scared, Pippin attempted to roll him onto his back. As he pulled gently on the stiff arm, Strider moaned and reflexively curled himself up. Relieved, Pippin shook him gently.

"Strider, you must wake up! It's just me, it's Pippin! Wake up!" Aragorn shifted and groaned.

"Iquista…..lende nin…" he murmured, half-unconsciously. Pippin, not understanding his words, shook him harder.

"Strider! Wake up!" Finally his demands came through. Aragorn's eyes cracked open, and slowly recognized Pippin.

"Pippin…is something wrong?" he asked quickly. Pippin smiled half-heartedly.

"We were worried about you…you are badly injured and the orcs don't seem to like you." He said with a quick grin. Aragorn smiled, but to Pippin it was not comforting as it was accompanied by a trickle of blood from his mouth.

"Strider, are you alright? Here, I brought you some food" Pippin produced the bread he had brought, and suddenly realized that with his hands bound behind him, Strider could not eat it. A sudden rage built inside him.

"Here." Pippin broke off a piece and offered it to Aragorn. He looked uncertain for a moment, then he leaned forward and took it in his mouth. Pippin repeated the procedure until the bread was gone.

"Thank you Pippin. Are you sure you have enough for yourself?" Pippin nodded and leaned over him. In the firelight thought he could see more bruises splayed across the exposed skin. Aragorn shifted uneasily.

"Strider, you need help. The arrow needs to come out and your arm is probably infected."

"Well…As you said, the orcs do not enjoy my presence, but I believe they want me alive as well, so you need not worry. I shall recover, in time." Pippin gaped.

"Strider, I'm sorry, but I think you need more than time." Aragorn smiled again.

"You are probably right, but I have no choice. And there are more important things at hand…" he glanced around. His two guards were talking on the edge of the camp, far out of earshot. "I want you to promise me something, Pippin."

"Anything!"

Aragorn sighed. "Pippin, you are right that most of the orcs do not wish me here, and only by one of the captain's will am I alive. But promise me, if they try to…hurt me, to make you do something, you must not give in."

"Strider, but-

"And one other thing. These orcs…they have a purpose for taking us to Isengard. If we arrive, there is no hope for any of us. Pippin, you must promise me that if you see any way to escape or leave a trail, you must take it."

"Strider, I-I… will, but…" Here Pippin looked uncomfortable. "How do we know someone is coming after us?"

"…know that whatever path you choose, we will follow you."

"I know"

TBC….

Well, there you go. I'm SO SORRY that it took so long, but my muse kind of went on vacation or something, and left me just staring at the computer screen. (shakes fist at sky)

But now that she has returned, I hope to update this sooner and…..

Yeah.

PLEASE REVIEW!