After pulling a mysterious, freezing man from an ice-covered river, Peregrin Took learns the hard lesson the evil doesn't lie in just Goblins and Orcs. Evil has many forms, and Pippin is about to learn a few.

Pippin turned, terrified to face whatever was near. Not half an hour ago he had wished he wasn't alone, and now that he'd gotten that wish, he just wanted to take it back.

Before the young Hobbit could turn around, a large hand grabbed the back of his neck, another on his arm. He kicked his legs and let out a scream, which was quickly covered by another hand. A deep, angry voice spoke.

"What did I say about the screamers?" It growled, before the hand on his neck replaced the one on his mouth. "I di'nt know it'd scream..." The voice behind him complained, pulling Pippin closer to the body that it belonged to. Pippin thrashed against the hands, twisting and turning before he was able to get one in sight. Their appearance nearly stilled his heart.

Huge monsters of men, at least six-and-a-half feet tall and muscled beyond belief. The angry voice belonged to this one, clad in red and brown, leather jacket and torn pants. His hair was long and unkempt, and his bottom lip stuck out in an under bite. There was no counting his scars.

This terrifying giant reached down and grabbed the man from the ice by the back of his robe, lifting him with ease as he hung like a ragdoll. "Thought you'd escape us again, little bird?" The captor cooed as he lifted the small man's unconscious face. "And now you've made a friend for us as well." His voice was venomous as his eyes turned to Pippin. "This'll be fun."

"The trees open here." Aragorn exclaimed as they burst into the clearing, silence greeting them. Their eyes immediately fell on the bloody ice, pulling a cry from Merry. "Oh, Pippin, no! Strider -!"

The tracker strode towards the ice, taking in all of the tracks that had disturbed the snow, and the freshly frozen sheet of ice that had already begun to cover the hole. "Pippin stepped on to the ice after it had broken. Something trapped in the ice drew his attention. Another two, very large, came and left. No other prints leave, so they must have been carried." He observed, following the departing tracks with his eyes.

"Then we must make haste!" Boromir said, stepping up beside Aragorn. "We don't know if those who made these tracks are friend or foe. Come, Merry." The trio set out across the ice, careful of their steps, as the torch only illuminated but a few feet around them.

The cloth across his mouth smelled old and dusty, tickling the little Hobbit's nose. But a tickled nose was the least of Pippin's concerns as he was carried on the back of this beast- even taller than the first. Carried further from his companions.

Their treatment thus far had been rough, to say the least. Pippin's wrists were already burned by the rope, and his shoulder felt dislocated from where he had been grabbed. He flinched every time the captor would take a particularly high step.

The man from the ice fared no better, trembling on the back of the other brute, and Pippin could hear his heavy breathing in the darkness. He didn't even need binds to keep him still. The thug that carried him had just wrapped limp arms around his neck and lifted him, similar to what Pippin had done to save him in the first place.

It felt like an hour had passed in almost total darkness before the trek stopped before a makeshift gate and two bored looking guards. Pippin wriggle, trying to make noise around the gag, but the guards clearly didn't care. "Caught the feathery brat- "

"An' another little one!" Chimed the man holding Pippin, receiving a glare from the first. The guards gave a nod and opened the gate to a very dreary camp. Long-term tents, animal pens, the gate around them... This was some poor excuse for a bandit camp, Pippin thought.

The prisoners were taken to a stitched up tent, barely held together by the poor patchwork, but there was a glowing torch within, and Pippin was at least thankful for the light. The rest, however, was worse- musty air, a strange smell, very little room... Pippin's stomach dropped when he saw a set of chains and bindings. What did they intend to do?!

The little Hobbit had no time to find out as they dropped the shivering man like a sack of potatoes. He let out a feeble cough, breath knocked out of him. The man who had carried him turned away for a moment, to a chest that sat in the tent. Unlocking it, he pulled out some old clothes- black breaches, a brown shirt with moth-eaten sleeves, and a pair of socks with open toes. "Little one'll need smaller clothes." he muttered to the man who still held Pippin on his back. "Smaller shackles, too."

Turning back to the man on the ground, he crouched and pulled a knife from his belt. Pippin let out a startled squeak before the man stabbed it into the ground beside him. He set to work stripping the frosty clothes off of the smaller man. As he did, Pippin couldn't help but look.

The man on the ground wore a dark blue robe, accented with blacks and blues, and a pair of leather gloves. He had on baggy pants beneath the robe, and long boots. There was also the hood that covered his face, blue with a pair of black wings stitched in to the sides.

Their captor started with his shoes, then pants, which Pippin was embarrassed to watch. Then he pulled off the hood with a rough tug, revealing the face of an elf. His skin was obviously supposed to be tanned, but even in the shadows Pippin could see how pale he was. His nose was sharp, as were most of his other features, going well with his pointed ears poking out of his long black hair that fell past his shoulder. When his robe was removed, a great many scars were revealed on the man- or rather, the elf's lean torso.

Pippin felt his heart sink further, suddenly terrified of whatever was to happen to him. His mind began to race, imagining how that elf got each one of his scars. Before the Hobbit went through all of the scars, his fellow prisoner was dressed again and shackled, wrists together and attached to a collar around his neck. These shackles were secured by a heavy metal post in the ground.

The man who carried him suddenly reached around, lifting Pippin up and off, before dropping him beside the elf. "Now you stay 'ere, okay?" He demanded. "Ain't any fun chasin' 'im around every time." Pippin was shaking as the man towered over him, and he couldn't help but nod dumbly.

The big guy grinned before walking out of the tent, leaving the other to watch them quietly from a darker corner of the tent. The elf stirred with a whimper, eyes flicking open. Taking in his surroundings, he let out a heavy sigh and shut his eyes tight for a moment before they popped back open.

He turned his head towards Pippin, eyes wide. "...Oh young Hobbit..." His voice was brokenhearted, a catch in his throat stopping his hoarse voice.

The man in the room cleared his throat, demanding silence. Pippin pulled his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees. He glanced up at the elf, who was looking rather devastated, and he suddenly felt guilty. 'I should have just gotten help...' he thought, burying his face in his arms.

...

Before long, shackles had been found in 'little size' and Pippin was chained the same as the elf, his gag finally removed. The only relief the poor prisoners got was the guards leaving them.

"I apologize, young master Hobbit." The elf finally spoke, eyes on Pippin. "I am afraid I have gotten you in more trouble than you deserve..."

Pippin frowned, still hugging his knees. He wasn't sure how to respond. He knew he should apologize as well, but put it off. "Ah... It's alright." He replied instead. "I'm used to getting in trouble." He tries to chuckle, but it came out shaky from his nerves. "Why, me and Merry always... Merry!" Pippin suddenly exclaimed, startling the elf. Turning, his face filled with excitement. "Merry's got to be looking for me! Oh I know he is, him and Boromir and Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli and..."

Pippin was filled again with hope, nearly bouncing as he listed off his friends, to which the elf couldn't help but chuckle. "My, you've quite the collection of friends. I do hope they will find you." he said, still sad in his eyes. Pippin grinned. "They'll find us both. And Gandalf'll turn them to toads, I bet."

The elf quirked a brow. "Turn them to toads?"

"Oh, Gandalf's a wizard. Best wizard around." Pippin gloated proudly. The elf smiled in response, glancing down at his restraints. "I'm sure he is. Some magic would be very helpful at this moment..." He pulled at the bindings, shaking the chains. With a sigh, he turned back to Pippin.

"So, may I know the name of the brave Hobbit who pulled me from the ice?" He asked with a light smile. "If we are to speak and wait for your companions, I would like to speak as friends."

Pippin nodded, shifting to sit more comfortably. "Peregrin Took, of the Shire. Or Pippin. My friends call me Pippin."

The elf gave a half bow. "Peregrin 'Pippin' Took, I thank you. I am Ithilhen, and I owe you the everlasting life that you saved."

Pippin couldn't help but blush, shocked (and thankful for the dull lighting.) "I-I... I only got you out of water... We're still stuck!" He babbled.

The elf gave a coy smile. "I thought Merry and Boromir and Aragorn and the others were coming...?" Pippin scrunched his nose, the corners of his lips turning up.

"They are... They're coming."