Merry flickered between dreams and reality as the arduous journey went on, losing all track of time as his head bounced against the iron helm and thick, tangled chunks of hair that rested up his captor's head as they journeyed on through the day. From the corner of his eye, he saw Pippin tossed on the back of one of the hardy uruk-hai, his eyes closed as well in an attempt for the terrible journey to somehow go faster. The hot afternoon sun burned the back of his neck and seemed to pain the smaller orcs greatly, for they hissed and panted as they struggled to keep pace with the sturdier lot. They had stopped briefly as ordered by Ugluk, for those the orcs from Mordor were near ready to collapse, their misshapen, ill-hued tongue dangling from thick lips as they guzzled what water remained in their skins.
But, just as soon as the break had begun, for he rejoiced in the sudden stillness, their pace quickened. A small ray of hope pierced the darkness that began to surround Merry's heart as they grew nearer and nearer to Isengard, for such meant that Aragorn and the others were perhaps behind them, were even now running across the rock plains and through the thick grass to rescue from this torment. Pippin was tired now, he knew, for they only smiled at each other in their exhaustion, their tongues too dry to form words as the heat of midday burned down upon them. He would occasionally catch a glance of Amera, who hung from the outstretched arms of one of the strongest of the creatures, like some sort of sacrifice to be ushered to Saruman. He was aware of the act she put on for them, of how she comforted them and was strong when they needed it most, but he also knew that she was deeply in pain.
Her strange, flickering eyes, while still beautiful, had lost some of their unearthly sheen, that almost eerie spark that had seemed to capture and draw him in as he had met her gaze so many times. There was such great sorrow there now, more than there had been before, and there was a shadow in her smile, a slight delay. As he had looked over his shoulder, catching but a brief look as his battered friend, he had seen tears gently streak down her bruised face, leaving small, clear paths through the dirt. Amera was breaking, and while he could not even imagine the will it had taken for her to even live after what had happened, he knew that the journey was hard upon her already weary spirit.
Just as worrying was the fact that she was still alive at all, he had realized, for it was no secret as to why he and Pippin were being taken to Isengard. Saruman no doubt do that it was a hobbit that carried the Ring, though he did not know which, and as such killing them was too great a risk. Amera, however, could not possibly have the Ring and while she was immensely powerful in her own, strange way, he could not think of a reason for Saruman to want her alive. He was aware that he had seen but a fraction of her power, for he thought that perhaps she herself did not truly know what she was capable of, but what use was a water spirit to Saruman the White?
His thoughts were interrupted as he was tossed upon the ground for yet another quick break, instantly and fully awake as he winced. Pippin, too, fell beside him and a moment later Amera was dropped with an absolute lack of care. Groaning, Merry glanced around to his two friends and they briefly inquired as to make sure everyone was alright, or rather as well as one could be in a situation such as this. Amera was very quiet, her eyes distant as she stared out at the endless plains around them, only speaking when absolutely asked to. After a few more minutes of rather one-sided discussions, Pippin closed his eyes and curled up against the soft earth, no doubt a welcome change from the sweating, heaving back of the uruk, and appeared to fall asleep almost instantly.
After a moment, Merry crawled towards Amera and joined her in looking out over the Gap of Rohan, over the realm of the horse lords, as he had once heard Gandalf explain to an insulted Gimli after yet another mention of the benefits of Moria. It was beautiful, these lands, so very different from the rolling hills and gentle forests of the Shire. Rocky outcroppings dotted the plains, speckled grey and white against the copper fields, their long sheaths of wheat and grass rippling as the breeze stirred them. He followed her gaze towards the icy peaks of the dark mountains that rose abruptly around them, distant snow shimmering beneath a golden sun as he remembered the bitter chill of Caradhras.
He then turned to Amera and watched a few stray tendrils of hair swirled around her expressionless face as she stared out at the world and finally whispered, "Are you alright, Amera?"
She blinked once but did not turn, quiet for a pause before softly replying, "I am just thinking, Merry."
"About what?"
She swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a brief moment, her shoulders falling slightly as she rested on her elbows, and he knew where her thoughts led her. He watched her as he chose his words carefully, finally murmuring, "Did you know?"
"Know what?"
"That he loved you."
Her eyes closed tightly and he saw her lip tremble very slightly. She opened her mouth to speak but swiftly closed it as her breath grew ragged and her teeth bit down on the corner of her lip. He looked away for a moment, feeling like he was intruding on such private recollections, but he continued softly, "The way he looked at you at Amon Hen, I knew it. I…I had suspected it before, but I saw it in his eyes and could no longer doubt it."
A faint smile, tinged with grief, appeared on her face as she whispered in reply, "Thank you, Merry. It," She swallowed hard, pausing to keep her emotions in check, "It means much to hear you say that."
"Did you love him, Amera?"
A few stray tears rolled down her cheeks as her flickering eyes opened, briefly shining with happiness as she murmured, "Yes," The sheen of her joy faded then, replaced with such deep sorrow that Merry wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and allow her to cry, as she whispered, "Though I had not the chance to tell him."
"I think he knew."
Amera then turned to him, her eyes widening slightly as they silently begged for an explanation. Merry looked down for a moment, each word carefully planned as he replied, "When he looked at you, he…he always smiled, no matter what. He tried to hide it, of course, but I saw the way he was happy when you were happy, like it comforted him."
She closed her eyes at his words, smiling peacefully as her mind no doubt ran through memories he could not began to guess at, though he had his suspicions. Finally, she opened her eyes once more and he saw a bit of the shadow had departed as she whispered, "Thank you, Merry."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Amera shivered as the cool, night breeze whispered through her tattered hauberk to dance, unwelcome, over her skin and she pulled her cloak around her shoulders as best she could. She sighed and looked down at her bound hands, at the thick strip around her wrists that had been rubbed raw over the past two days by the constant friction, almost glowing in the pale light. She had tried numerous times, when she had made sure no one was looking, but the leather strips were bound far too tightly and intricately for any chance of escape.
She knew little of these lands, had only ever read about them so very long ago in the dusty tomes of the great library, but knew nonetheless that they grew ever closer to Isengard, to Saruman. She was lucky to be alive, she could not doubt that, but feared what awaited them once they would. The hobbits would be fairly safe until Saruman realized they did not carry that which he so yearned for and that result of the discovery filled her with dread. She, on the other hand, could not begin to imagine what reasoning lay behind the wizard's orders to keep her alive. She was useless to him, save for some sort of bargaining chip with which he fancied he could achieve some sort of end, but she had vowed to herself as her mind filtered through every possible scenario, that she would kill herself before she would prove any sort of liability to her friends.
Still, perhaps Aragorn and the others were behind them. Perhaps there lay their hope.
The sharp cracks of axe against wood interrupted her thoughts and she glanced to Pippin, who flinched as each stroke made its mark and rang through the empty plains. She shifted onto her side and turned from the boundaries of the forest, for sound of such ancient beauty dying to fuel the fires of such beasts burdened her. Those branches had seen so much, had encountered thousands of the warm embraces of summer and the sharp bite of winter, had watched as the distant mountain peaks ascended higher and higher into the radiant sky as time had passed and now, all those memories, were simply fed to flames.
She turned to Merry and Pippin, who were quietly talking amongst themselves, but paused as a strange sound suddenly rang out above the metallic clanging of the axes. It was a low, almost sort of moan that sent a shiver down her spine and she blinked, reassured that her exhaustion had not caused her to imagine such as both the hobbits froze mid-sentence. They were silent as they stared at each other, straining their ears to make out the noise once more. And yes, there it was, a strange, low rumbling that made its way through the twisted forest.
Both Merry and Pippin looked to her and she shook her head, whispered fiercely, "I know not what it is!"
Pippin tilted his head in reply, "But didn't you, er, sleep or whatever exactly it is you did, in Fangorn?"
She paused for a moment and nodded, hazy memories rising to the surface of consciousness as she said, "Yes, but you must understand that I literally recall nothing about it, Pip." She closed her eyes, biting her lip as she struggled to make out what lie beneath the rippling images and sensations that were her memories of Fangorn. "I…I remember the trees seemed so very ancient that even I felt but a child in their presence. And it was quiet, yes, it was eerily silent, for I heard no birds nor rustlings of animals as I walked over the winding roots."
Neither of the hobbits seemed particularly comforted by this description, but Merry's eyes widened as he whispered suddenly, "Pip, remember those stories people used to tell about the Old Forest, you know, on the edges of Buckland." Pippin shook his head slowly in confusion as Amera watched closely. Merry sighed and looked to them both as he explained, "People used to say-well, mostly my uncle Odo when he'd had a bit too much to drink, but he'd say that the trees in there were funny-like, you see."
Amera and Pippin stared at him blankly, so he continued, lowering his voice as his eyes trailed to the dark outlines of the trees. "Uncle Odo would say that you'd be walking and feel like somethin' was just watching you, or following you, and you would turn around and swear that suddenly the forest had grown in tighter around you, like it didn't want you going on any farther." Judging by Amera's skeptical face once, he sighed and whispered, "People used to say the trees could move."
"Don't be ridiculous, Merry," Pippin rolled his eyes from beside Amera, "It's not like nature just had a mind of its own, you know."
Merry snorted, "And so states the hobbit lying beside the girl that came from a lake."
Amera coughed lightly at this, shrugging as a faint blush appeared in Pippin's cheeks, "Not quite, but close enough." The strange sound whispered once more through the forest, stirring the leaves that fanned over their heads like a canopy. She shivered slightly and Pippin took notice, for he shifted up against her and awkwardly lifted his bound hands to pull her cloak around her shoulders. She smiled at him as he seemed not to realize the impact of his kindness and she realized the true depth of how very much she cared for both him and Merry. They were so courageous, so brave despite all that had been suddenly thrust upon them. They did not deserve to experience such darkness, to know such grief and pain, but yet, they carried on with such great fortitude that never ceased to amaze her. Such strange little things, these hobbits were, but so very strong after all.
The three turned their heads as an argument suddenly broke out amongst the orcs and Amera overheard something like dissatisfaction with the food over the raucous growlings, which she rather had to agree with. However, her agreement quickly faded into something like terror as the bloodshot eyes of the ravenous orcs shifted towards the hobbits. She shifted in front of them immediately, doing her best to block them from view as one gangly creature tilted it head, snapping its maw as it hissed, "What bout' them? They're fresh?"
There was a murmur of agreement and Amera felt the steady thump of adrenaline begin to course through in her veins, her body instinctively prepared for conflict despite its exhaustion. "Yes!" Another gleefully licked its filthy lips, taking a quick step closer as it reasoned, "They don't need their legs."
Ugluk stepped in front of her, growling. "The prisoners are to be taken to Saruman alive and unspoiled, you stinkin' rats!"
"Why alive?" The first orc whined, almost hopping to get a better glance at the hobbits she sheltered behind her.
"They've got somethin' the old man wants, some sort of elvish weapon, but it ain't none of your business, Morgul scum!" Ugluk roared as the other uruks around him beat their broad chests in agreement.
"What bout' the girl, then?" There was a rumble at this and Amera swallowed hard as another voice spoke up, "You might as well let us 'ave a bit of fun with her, your wizard won't be able to tell." A few more orcs cried out in agreement and Amera's heart began to beat very fast in her chest as her fingers twitched, ready at the defense should it become necessary.
Suddenly, Pippin cried out from behind her and she whirled around, her eyes growing wide as the leering head of an orc snapped towards his shoulder. Instinctively, she lashed out with her foot and caught him off balance, but was thrown to the side by a strong hand. Wincing, she watched as Ugluk's furious roars pierced the quiet of the night as he raised his great sword and sliced through the neck of the attacker in the shadows. Pippin gasped in horror as the bloodied head fell upon his shoulder for a moment, the body shooting out a steady stream of blood from its neck as it stumbled and fell behind them.
The camp was silent, the eyes of all who had witnessed the brutality wide. After a long moment, Ugluk raised his sword to his lips and slowly licked the dark blood from the blade, then roared once more, "Looks like meats back on the menu, boys!"
Merry and Pippin were thrown aside too as the feeding frenzy began. Amera recoiled in horror as she felt a cool liquid splatter her forward, disgusted as the orcs of both Isengard and Mordor tore into the body of their companion with ravenous glee. They cared for nothing now but the taste of blood and pull of meat beneath their teeth, Amera shook her head with utter revulsion as she was unable to tear her eyes away.
And then, she blinked as she realized this was the chance they had been waiting for. She met Merry and Pippin's eyes, for they both had come to the same realization, and she whispered with shining eyes illuminated by the moon, "Time to go."
