Chapter 2
One Nightmare after Another
"Pippin!" The scream echoed all around and in his own ears. Merry was frantic. The corridor seemed to have no end, with an infinite number of twists and turns. He kept on, racing into the walls in the dark, not caring when he fell on the highly polished floor. Everything was as black as night and he unable to see or hear anything. "Pippin! Pip, where are you?"
He felt his way round a corner and stopped dead, stuck dumb in disbelief. Lying on the floor directly in front of him, bathed in a sickly light, lay a bundle. He recognized the tousled, mop of hair sticking out from the grey cloak of Lorien. It was surrounded by a pool of blood. He fell, sobbing, to his knees, squeezing his eyes shut against the sight of his cousin's lifeless body.
000
He felt hand shaking him and heard a quiet voice calling him. He tried to push the hands away, but they were persistent and he heard someone whispering his name.
"Merry, it's okay. I'm here."
Merry opened his eyes and saw Pippin's worried face above him. "Pip?"
"Everything's fine Merry-lad. Just a nightmare; nothing more. You called in your sleep. It must have been horrible!"
He felt warm tears on his cheeks and hastily brushed them away with his sleeve beginning to feel a little embarrassed of his fuss over a bad dream. With Pip's help he pulled himself into a sitting position and was less than happy to find his arms and legs restricted again. He shook his head to rid it of the lingering images of his disturbed sleep. Pippin threw him one of his impish smiles and it warmed Merry to the bones to know that his cousin hadn't changed despite everything they were going through. "What time is it?"
Pippin glanced up briefly, "Around nine o' clock I'd say."
Merry grinned. No matter how often he did it he was still amused by Pip's ability to tell the time within fifteen minutes just by looking at the Sun.
Suddenly both hobbits spun around as a harsh voice boomed out from behind them, "Hoy! You two keep your traps shut or I'll come over there and close them for you!"
To Merry's horror he saw Uglúk crouched by a fire surrounded by no less than ten, very large Uruk-hai of Isengard. Presumably, they must be other survivors of the previous night's battle. Uglúk rose and came over to them; knife in hand. Pippin shrunk back, closer into Merry's side, the small cut on his neck a testament to his experience with that weapon. All the Orc did though was free both of their legs.
"It's time to start running again, lads."
The rest of the morning passed in blur as both hobbits, this time, where driven across the plain with whips licking their heels. The Orc-draft warmed them and they ran as fast as they could.
It was harder for Merry whose stomach and chest became increasingly more painful from the kicks he had received in them only a few hours before. He gasped for breath and Pippin tried to lend him support without the Orcs noticing, though his bonds hampered him.
At about midday, they reached the banks of the Entwash. The hobbits fell to their knees in the shallows and began to quench their terrible thirst. It was the first fresh water they had had in days and it tasted like Heaven in their parched mouths.
The Orcs, however, weren't thinking of stopping yet. Hands grasped Merry's hair and hauled him to his feet. "Get a move on! Straight across you goes!"
Merry stared in horror. He was one of the few Shire's folk that could swim and though he had tried to teach Pippin they hadn't got much further than basic doggy paddle. However, he could see that he was going to have problems himself with this stretch of water. Pippin, who was smaller and was almost as inept at swimming as he was at keeping out of trouble, didn't stand a chance. An Orc or a man would have little difficulty crossing here, but a hobbit would be almost completely smothered by the deep water. The strong under-currents wouldn't help matters either.
"We can't cross this!" he shouted at Uglúk. "It's too deep!"
"You'll cross now or I'll throw you in myself!" growled the Orc, fury flashing in his yellow eyes.
Slowly they pushed forward into the cold water. Pippin gasped as it rose past his waist and up his chest. He could feel the current pushing at his unstable feet; trying to wash him away. He stopped as the river came dangerously close to overflowing into his mouth. One more step and he would be completely submerged.
"Get a move on, Runt!"
He felt a foot kick him in the small of the back and he tipped forward, the water rushing up to meet him. He felt the watercourse pull him away from the ford and hurl him deeper into the current.
He kicked his legs around trying to bring his head above the water, but it was a futile fight, disadvantaged as he was with his hands tied. He could feel water flooding his lungs and every corner of his brain.
Images of people and places he had once known flashed before his eyes: Frodo's desperate expression while fleeing the Orcs, Gandalf falling into shadow, Aragorn fighting the black riders and finally Merry smiling at him speaking words he couldn't catch.
He was slammed against the riverbed, rocks cutting into him. He felt something in his arm snap and dimly registered an acute pain. "Well, this is it," he thought to himself as he lost conciseness, "This is the end. Goodbye, everyone." And his thought fled far away and his eyes saw no more.
"Pippin!" Merry shrieked as he saw his cousin disappear beneath the surface. He dived to try and reach him, but Uglúk grabbed him and tossed him to the opposite bank. Desperately, he flung himself back toward the river but strong arms held him in place. He could see the flailing body being swept further away down river. Not one of the Orcs gave it a second glance. He screamed as he had never screamed before, cursing every Orc ever spawned and calling Pippin's name hoping he would hear.
Eventually, the last Orc had crossed and the struggling form had gone still and disappeared. Desperate rage burning through him, Merry lashed out at the creature restraining him causing it to lose several teeth.
In retaliation it clouted him over the head with its fist. He fell to the ground, stars spinning before his eyes. He heard a voice overhead.
"Leave the dead. We still have this one. He's all Sharkey will need."
Merry's brain was frozen. He couldn't leave Pip. He had sworn to himself a thousand times that he would take care of him till the bitter end. Pippin couldn't be dead. He was only twenty-eight; not even an adult yet. He had been standing beside him seconds ago. He started yelling again, his brain refusing to accept what he was hearing. He felt another blow to his head and fell into blackness.