Chapter XII: Fangorn

"Come on, Sam! RUN!"

Merry looked over his shoulder and continued running. Pippin was just a few feet ahead. Samwise Gamgee trailed behind both of them. All three of them were sprinting frantically away from a hideous orc, his skin blackened by a mixture of his natural hue and a blend of unknown filth. This one was particularly sadistic - he was the one who suggested to cut off the hobbits' legs when the other orcs were craving meat. He had also taunted Pippin just before they escaped into the forest. All three of the hobbits regarded the night raid occurring behind them as a gift from Eru himself.

Sam was on the verge of hyperventilating from both the labor of running and sheer panic. He sprinted on and was soon at Pippin's heels.

"I'm going to rip off your filthy little heads!" the orc shouted.

"COME HERE!"

Merry's eyes darted frantically around the forest.

They were all surrounded by trees.

"Pippin! Sam! Start climbing the trees!"

Both immediately complied and began to climb the same one. Merry wasn't far behind. All three of them were well on their way to the top when they finally began to feel safe. Merry scanned the ground below. Their ugly pursuer was nowhere to be seen.

"He's gone!"

As if on cue, Merry felt a large, greasy hand grab his ankle and pull him back down to the ground. Sam and Pippin's gazes snapped right in his direction as they watched their friend struggle at the hands of the orc in horror. Pippin couldn't hold in his fear for very long.

"MERRY!"

Right as he shouted his friend, both he and Sam heard a strange sound emitting from the tree that they were climbing- like an old man groaning after waking up from a long slumber. They both turned their heads to the trunk of the tree, where they witnessed the opening of two large, amber orbs. Sam's eyes widened in horror, his face silently frozen in fear and disbelief.

Those amber eyes looked directly at Pippin, who shrieked as he fell backwards. A giant, gnarled excuse for a hand that more closely resembled an basket of woven branches soon caught him in its wooden grasp. Before he knew it, Sam lost his balance and fell off to the side only to be caught in the other.

"RUN, MERRY!" Pippin shouted.

He was still being pursued by the raging orc, who had him pinned down within seconds. The hideous creature pulled out a broad, filthy blade and pointed it directly at Merry's stomach. The latter wasn't sure if the weapon was a short sword or a large dagger - and frankly, he didn't care.

"Let's put a maggot hole in your belly!" the orc hissed.

Merry's heart was pounding. His eyes froze in terror at the horrendous orc, preparing for the end. Suddenly, he heard a thunderous stomp mere inches away, followed by the crunching of bones beneath a foot that resembled the uprooted trunk of a large tree.

The blade that was about to bury itself into Merry's gut was now just out of reach of the orc's now unnaturally twisted hand. A few seconds later, however, neither the blade nor its wielder's wretched corpse were of interest to anyone.

Merry's gaze quickly darted to the great figure towering above him, who was now grasping his friends in each hand.

"What are you waiting for? RUN!" Sam exclaimed.

Merry quickly heeded the warnings of his friends and ran as quickly as he could. However, the treelike giant quickly gained on him and scooped him up in the same hand that was holding Pippin in its gnarly grasp.

The giant stared intently at the three of them. It was only now that they noticed the moss that hung from the creature's face, which distinctly resembled the long, pointed beard of an old man. It was only then that it - he - began to speak. His voice was so deep and thunderous that it chilled all three of the hobbits to their bones.

"Little orcs! BURÀRUM...!"

"It's talking! The tree's talking!" Pippin frantically commented.

"Tree?! I am no tree! I am an Ent."

Merry grinned in excitement for a moment.

"Treehearder!"

Sam was just staring up in awe, unsure of how to react.

"A shepherd of the forest...!"

"Don't talk to it. Don't encourage it!" Pippin warned.

The Ent continued despite his comment.

"Treebeard, some call me..."

"And whose side are you on?" Pippin asked timidly.

"Side? I am on nobody's side, because nobody's on my side, little orc. Nobody cares for the woods anymore."

"We're not orcs!" Merry exclaimed. "We're hobbits!"

Treebeard's eyes wandered off, as though in thought.

"Hobbits...? Never heard of a hobbit before..."

The ent's gaze immediately shifted back to his three captives with renewed anger in his eyes.

"Sounds like orc mischief to me!"

He tightened his grasp on the three hobbits, who all groaned and whimpered in pain.

"You don't understand!" Merry shouted. "We're hobbits!"

Pippin quickly chimed in, as did Sam.

"Halflings!"

"Shire Folk!"

"Maybe you are, and maybe you aren't," Treebeard responded. "The White Wizard will know."

Pippin echoed his words in a panicked whisper.

"White wizard..."

Merry's eyes widened at the sudden realization.

"Saruman...!"

Before they knew it, the three hobbits were dropped to the ground at the feet of an old man in glowing white robes.

Sam's eyes widened in shock. There was no doubt that the man towering above them was the White Wizard... but he certainly was not Saruman.

"Mister Gandalf...?!"

...

The cave that Frodo and Merida now resided in was still shrouded in darkness. Merida wouldn't have even been able to see her own hand in front of her face had it not been for the faintly glowing phial that was buried beneath Frodo's mithril shirt.

Frodo was still asleep and bare to the waist. His curls were swept over his face, giving him a dreamy, serene look. He'd used the torn shirt and vest as a pillow, and his cloak for a blanket. The latter garment almost blended with the stone of the cave. Merida couldn't help but stare a little while longer, secretly wishing that her mission was to hide away with him from the troubles of the world outside. She watched his eyelids flutter open. Even in this dim light, his blue eyes seemed to glimmer like a pristine lake in the dead of night. He slowly rose, allowing the cloak to fall below his waist and gather at his hips.

She did the same and quickly clasped on her cloak. Frodo watched her as she did so and gathered her things, momentarily unsure of what to say or do. Her bright mane stood out even in the dim, muffled light of Galadriel's phial. Her touch the night before had healed and soothed him to a much greater extent than he'd expected.

"Is it morning yet?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know, but I'm going outside to find out."

"Wait-!"

He suddenly grasped her forearm, albeit gently.

"L-let me go with you."

"We're going to have to keep going regardless," he continued, rationalizing his thoughts. "It's dangerous out there."

He quickly grabbed his mithril shirt and slipped it over his head. He then sifted through his belongings until he found a spare shirt in his pack, which he quickly put on and buttoned over the silvery mail. He deftly tucked them both in his trousers before throwing on the vest and cloak. He then reverently clasped the green brooch over his throat and rose to his feet.

He was quick to grab his belongings and follow Merida out of the cave. Sure enough, the very first rays of dawn were cracking at the very entrance.

Frodo clutched the Ring around his neck as he took one last glance at the cave, which was now nothing more than a black abyss. Merida did the same before they both walked away, carrying on with their journey to Mordor.

...

"Frodo?"

"Yes?"

"Out of curiosity... what does that leaf brooch mean?"

"Hm?"

"The one at the clasp of your cloak?"

"It was a gift from Lady Galadriel," he responded. "As was this," he added as he carefully pulled out the phial. Had she not seen it glow in the cave, Merida would have thought that it was little more than a fancy glass water vessel.

"She gave us all gifts when we left Lothlorien," he commented.

"We?"

He looked up at her.

"Yes. There were nine of us originally."

"Were you all supposed to go to Mordor together?"

Frodo looked at her, puzzled, before giving his answer.

"... I doubt it."

"What happened?"

"We separated."

He clutched the Ring around his neck.

"One of them wanted to take it for himself."

"Who?"

Frodo sighed heavily.

"Boromir. Boromir was his name. He was from Gondor."

Merida paused.

"I'm sorry."

Frodo looked at her again, a small smile crossing his lips as his eyes softened. Those eyes.

Merida couldn't help but study that serene, beautiful face for a few moments before they both walked on... closer to Mordor.