I wish I owned Lord of the Rings. But I don't. Sighs Guess I'll just have to write Fanfiction for it…

Reviews are always appreciated!

Normally when Pippin ran, he would run for a good reason. Running to the breakfast table. Or the second breakfast table. Or the elevensies table. Running to the farmer's market. Running to see the fireworks. He really hadn't had any experience in running for his life. Unfortunately, he was getting his experience now, as the hobbit found himself running through a dark forest, a malicious orc on his tail.

"I'm going to rip out your filthy, little innards!"

The orc's voice was still distant, but Pippin didn't slow his pace. Merry was a few strides ahead, weaving them through the trees, but also making them more and more lost. Pippin could hear himself breathing in his head, and his feet were beginning to hurt.

"Come 'ere!"

The orc was closer.

"Trees!" Merry whispered urgently. "Climb the trees!"

The hobbits scrambled up the nearest tree, a huge, towering oak, with embellishments slightly resembling a face near the top. Merry helped his younger cousin climb higher than he, until Pippin was at the very top. Oddly, this tree didn't seem to have leaves, but the hobbits paid it no matter. They scanned the surrounding area for any sign of their pursuer, but the forest floor seemed abandoned.

Merry pulled himself up so his chest was leaning over the branch. "He's gone!" Suddenly, he felt a tremendous yank on his dangling foot. Merry let out a strangled gasp, and tried with all his might to hang on to the branch.

Pippin glanced down from his perch on the tree, and felt his stomach instantly squeeze as a jolt of panic went through him. "Merry!" His cousin had his arms wrapped around the tree branch, an expression of exertion on his face, and a slimy orc pulling his leg to force him out of the tree. The struggle continued for another second or so, before the orc managed to win the battle, and pulled the hobbit out of the tree.

Merry hit the ground with a soft thwump. He barely had a second to catch his breath before his eyes widened as the orc stepped towards him, knife advanced.

Pippin watched from up on his spot in the tree. A cry escaped his lips as he watched the orc advance on his cousin.

"MER-RY!"

His shout was answered by a resounding groan behind him, and Pippin's uneasiness multiplied. He slowly turned his head, to be met with a staring pair of eyes, protruding from the great oak behind him.

"Ugh!" Pippin gasped in surprise, and the tree seemed to wake up, blinking its eyes as if coming out of a deep slumber. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the moving tree, one that was alive. Suddenly, one of the great limbs came whipping around, and grasped the hobbit around the waist, momentarily knocking the wind out of him. It lowered its limb, turning Pippin back to the scene below him. Merry had stopped struggling away from the orc, and looked up in bafflement at the moving tree. But the orc seemed not to have seen it.

"Merry! Run!" Pippin called, as the orc had his dagger dangerously close to his cousin.

"RUN!" he screamed, and it seemed to jolt Merry back into reality. But he was too late, as the orc buried his knife deep into the hobbit's chest.


"NO!" Pippin screamed, as he tunnel visioned in on his cousin, spilling blood over the leaves, an orcish dagger an alarming difference among his hobbit attire. As the tree he was in stretched and took a step forward, crushing the orc in its wake, he fought with all of his strength to try and free himself. Merry was still. Too still.

The massive tree stepped close to the fallen hobbit, and gently unfurled Pippin from his great fist. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he scrambled across the leaves until he reached Merry.

"Merry…"

The injured hobbit's breaths came in short gasps, as his hands were curled around the blade of the dagger, as if to staunch the blood flow, but to no avail.

"No, no, no, no…" Pippin muttered under his breath. Blood. How do you stop blood? There was a lot of blood. Too much blood that wasn't supposed to be there.

"Oh, Merry…" Pippin's voice broke, and his hands shook as he stroked his cousin's soft, golden curls.

"S'funny. I don't usually see orcs mourn other orcs." the tree rumbled from behind him. Normally a talking tree would have given Pippin a shock, but he'd seen this tree walk. And of course there was the whole matter of Merry…

"Can you help him, Tree?" he pleaded.

"TREE?! I am no tree! I am an Ent. A tree shepherd of the forest! Some call me... Treebeard."

"I'm sorry...Treebeard. But please, could you help him?"

"What! Why would I help you, little orc? No orc would ever help me! All they do is come with their axes, and their fire. And destroy my friends. So no, little orc, I show you no mercy."

Pippin stood up and looked the tree dead in the eyes. "We are no orcs! We are hobbits! Shire-folk! Halflings!"

Treebeard's expression didn't change.

"See!" Pippin raised one foot high in the air, wobbling a bit as he did so. "The feet! They are larger than ones of orcs!" He raced to the orc's corpse, and lay beside it. "And see! We're much smaller than orcs!" Pippin racked his brain to think of some other way to convince the still skeptical Ent. Finding none, he helplessly spread his arms out. "Hobbits!"

"Never heard of a hobbit before…" Treebeard said thoughtfully. His expression darkened. "Sounds like more orc rubbish to me!"

The Ent turned, and began walking away. "Wait!" Pippin cried. He ran a few steps after him. "You're just going to leave? You're not going to help?"

Treebeard turned his head. "An Ent does not bother in business that is not his own." And as if it was a closing statement, Treebeard disappeared into the forest. Pippin stared helplessly where he had left, until a small voice behind him transported him back to reality. "Pip...in…"

"Merry!" The hobbit whirled around, racing as fast as his small feet could carry him to his fallen cousin. He knelt beside him, scanning his frame for any other injury. Finding none, he shifted his gaze to rest on the still bleeding wound on the other hobbit's lower chest.

"Pip…"

"Merry, it's fine. You're going to be okay, Merry. You'll be fine." He slowly unbuttoned Merry's vest, trying to see better. When he caught sight of the wound, he winced, shut his eyes, and turned his head away. The dagger was black, and the blade rusted. It protruded out of Merry's right lower chest, about 2 inches in. Blood had stained his clothing, and the forest leaves beneath him. Pippin scanned over the wound. He didn't know what to do. Take it out? Leave it in? He didn't want to do anything to make this worse, but… he was bleeding.

"Take...take it...out," Merry rasped, his head flat on the ground, his breathing uneven.

"But-but, is that good? I thought you had to leave it in. Or not? Oh, Merry what do I do?"

"I don't want... to die...with...it...in me."

"No. No, no, no, no. You're not going to die, Merry. I'm going to look after you, Merry. Don't worry. You're going to be fine." Pippin scanned the wound helplessly.

"Pippin…" Pippin finally looked at Merry's face, which looked tired and ragged. Pippin looked directly in his cousin's eyes, and Merry held the gaze steadily. His eyes looked sorrowful, but they held something that scared Pippin right down to his feet. Acceptance.

"You have to let me go."

Pippin bit his lip to try and restrain his tears, but failed. "No, Merry." He shook his head.

"No. You can't leave me!" His voice cracked on the word "leave."

"I can't help it, Pippin." Merry's eyes drifted to the handle of the blade, chest rising and falling unevenly. He shakily raised a hand, and put it on Pippin's cheek. The younger hobbit leaned into his cousin's touch and closed his eyes, his tears still falling.

"Find Aragorn, Pip. Stay with him. Stay with Frodo. Remember what we joined the quest for, Pip?" Merry's eyes started filling, through emotion and pain. "For Frodo."

Pippin nodded, and opened his eyes, meeting his cousin's eyes with a hold as tight as a fist. "For Frodo," he repeated.

"Good," Merry smiled genuinely. He closed his eyes, as a sigh escaped him.

"Sing me to sleep, Pip."

"What?"

"Sing me to sleep."

Pippin grasped Merry's hand in his, and held it tightly.

"Home is behind

The world ahead

And there are many paths to tread

Through shadow

To the edge of night

Until the stars are all alight

Mist and shadow

Cloud and shade

All shall fade

All shall...fade."

Pippin looked down at his cousin. A lightless face stared unseeing at the sky. The hobbit let out a quiet sob, and gently closed Merry's eyes, and then laid a kiss on his forehead. He gently unclipped the Lothlorien leaf from the fallen hobbit's cloak, and placed it in the pocket next to his heart. Pippin then gathered various flowers, leaves and herbs and outlined his cousin in them. He brought Merry's hand up to his lips once more, and folded them over his still heart. It was if he was sleeping, peacefully dreaming of the Shire. Pippin smiled sadly, and held Merry's hand one last time.

"For Frodo."