Chapter soundtrack: 'Parallel Universe' by Red Hot Chili Peppers.

† Chp. XVI †

___

The uruk-hai slow their pace to a mere stroll, and I sigh in relief, sitting down for a quick rest as I thump my back against a tree trunk. At this rate, they'll be easy to catch up to.

It's been about an hour of jogging, and if it weren't for my earlier days of cross country, my legs wouldn't be able to handle the chase. But with my injuries, I can feel my body beginning to give out.

Gritting my teeth, I look down to the arrow which still remains lodged in my shoulder. It absolutely kills, especially whilst running, but right now it's the only thing keeping the blood inside of my body.

I don't know how long the uruk-hai are going to keep this slow pace, so if there's a time to bandage the wound, it's now.

Grabbing my dagger, I tear two strips off the bottom of my ragged singlet and scrunch one of the pieces in my hand. Then with much hesitation, I twist the shaft of the arrow to see if the tip is stuck between bone, but lucky it turns with ease.

By the hole the arrow has made in my jacket, luckily narrowly missing the fabric of my new cloak, I can tell that the head isn't much larger than the shaft, meaning that not much damage will be caused if I pull it out carefully. Then, while gritting my teeth, I grasp the shaft and slowly pull the arrow from my shoulder. My other hand digs into the moss which sits by my side, drawing earth beneath my fingernails.

"Bloody hell." I mutter as my eyes water up. I sure as hell hope that I'm doing this right.

A slight sense of relief tinges my body as the head is removed, and I bring to tip to my tongue, spitting out the metallic, but thankfully not bitter taste of blood.

Atleast I haven't been poisoned.

With the slip of a swear word, I lift my jacket to see blood splurting out of the wound. Just my luck the arrow punctured an artery. 

Thinking quickly, I apply the scrunched up cloth to the area and press down, wrapping the other strip beneath my armpit and around my shoulder to keep pressure on the wound, and hopefully prevent too much blood loss.

Well would you look at that, I'm officially a healer.

I place my jacket back over my shoulder and zip it in order to keep the bandage in place.

But a commotion coming from beneath grabs my sudden attention, and I furrow my eyebrows. A bush sits a top the cliff I am using to track the uruks, and I crouch down, peering through the leaves at the hideous posse which resides bellow. They have stopped completely, and one of the beasts sniff the air.

"What is it? What do you smell?" One uruk questions with a hoarse voice.

"Man flesh." The ghastly creature replies, sending the uruks into a silent frenzy.

"I've been here the whole time you nimrods." I mutter beneath my breath, rolling my eyes at the dumb creatures.

"They've picked up our trail!" The uruk grunts. "Let's go!"

And with that, Merry and Pippin are once again whisked away from my view in a sea of grotesque, ungodly bodies. My body screams to keep on resting, but my mind orders me not to abandon the defenseless halfings.

Who doesn't love a good sprint when your legs are about to fall off?

•

Chasing a herd of uruks who have stolen two of your friends is alright, but chasing a herd of uruks for three days is almost humanly impossible. In fact, it is humanly impossible, especially when all the blood in my body seems to be more focused on my wound rather than my legs.

But alas, by following the large amount of tracks in which the beasts left behind, and a lot of thought up self motivation, I catch up to the pack by nightfall. And much to my applause, they have finally decided to take a break from sprinting.

Along with this fact comes another reassurance, and that lies within the forest in which the uruks have chosen to camp beside.

Fangorn.

My safe haven.

I smirk towards the woods as a loud creak emerges, the ent equivalent of communication. However, these calls from the trees seem to be of distress, and I furrow my eyebrows, looking back towards the herd of filth.

A commotion stirs within the pack, and I stand close enough to see the looks on their gnarled faces, but far enough to remain unseen.

"Looks like meat's back on the menu boys!" One uruk bellows, and I immediately freeze, fearing what kind of stock he is referring to. But with much relief, I see two small figures being pushed aside, and with the distraction between the uruks, they crawl towards the border of Fangorn in an attempt to escape.

Fiddling with the pocket inside my cloak, I pull out my flask of whiskey and pour an amount onto the scrunched strip of cloth from my singlet, before pressing it back against my wound. Taking a swig, I chuck the now empty flask to the ground and grab my bow, lifting my hood over my head as I am ready to go and retrieve the two damsels.

But I once again tense as I see an orc hovering over the two hobbits, and with the simple fire of an arrow, I send my shot right into the side of it's ghastly head.

"Time to save your munchkin asses... again." I remark, before stepping into a sprint. Although before I can even make any progress, the sound of a horse grabs my attention.

Men whom I assume to be Rohirrim come thundering from behind, their weapons drawn high. There are easily enough to take out every single one of the uruks, and my main priority rests on the hobbits.

I take one more look back at the men, before sprinting off into the forest of Fangorn.

•

~3rd persøn~

Merry and Pippin dart into the dark woods, leaving behind the battle between man an orc as they seek refuge within the old forest. Their large feet thump through foliage and over fallen logs, as their small bodies weave between those of the broad trunks.

The trees of Fangorn creak at the arrival of the odd creatures, along with the return of a rather well known human. It has been awhile since so much chatter occurred within the forest, but the groans which echo through out the canopy are of unmistakable excitment and curiosity.

The hobbits tumble to the ground, gasping for breath as they peer around the scenery with wide eyes. If there is anywhere to hide, Fangorn is the place.

"Did we lose him?" Pippin asks, referring to the orc which had been out on the hunt for their halfing flesh. "I think we lost him."

The hobbit continues to look around, breath finally coming naturally at the silent serenity of the woods, until a loud rustle accompanied with a hoarse grunt catches his attention.

Emerging from behind the leaves of a low hanging tree, the ghastly orc appears, spitting threats at the hobbits while weilding a sharp dagger.

"I’m gonna rip out your filthy little innards!" It seethes, taking steps forward as the beast stalks its defensless prey.

The two hobbits dash further into the forest, their little hearts pumping overtime as they scuttle behind a tree trunk.

"Trees! Climb a tree." Merry orders, and Pippin is quick to obey as he scrambles up the branches, away from the orc's dreaded grasp.

Merry follows behind, taking a look around the now silent forest as he reaches what he assumes to be a safe height.

"He's gone." The hobbit states, glancing at Pippin with a grin. But alas, he speaks too soon, and a gnarled hand grabs the halfing by the ankle, tearing him away from the tree and back onto the forest floor.

The orc hisses as it glares down at Merry with a deep hunger in it's harrowing eyes, drool dripping from it's maul as the ghastly creature crawls towards the hobbit. But before it can get close enough, the orc recieves a large foot to the face.

Merry retracts his leg as the beast falls back, before it snaps it's hideous head back into the direction of the hobbit. The orc crawls forward once again, and the halfing squirms back, but he is not fast enough, and the ghastly creature latches onto his short leg.

"Merry!" Pippin wails, but a sudden movement from the tree catches his attention.

"Let's put a maggot hole in your belly." The orc leers, but before he can even bring his dagger close to the hobbit's chest, the gnarled creature is completely flattened by what looks to be the trunk of a tree.

Merry stumbles back onto his feet, lifting his gaze to see Pippin in the grasp of what looks to be a moving tree, twisted to form a human figure.

In other words, an ent.

"Run Merry!" Pippin warns, but his hobbit friend isn't quick enough, and soon Merry is also scooped into the ent's rigid grasp.

"Little Orcs! Burárum." The tree growls in a hoarse voice, as if it hasn't spoken in over a century. His ancient eyes scan over the halflings, a sort of curious hatred gleaming from the yellow iris'.

"It's talking Merry, the tree is talking!" Pippin exclaims with shallow breaths, weary of the creatures intentions.

"Tree?! I am no tree!" The 'not tree' remarks, his wooden limbs creaking as he slowly stomps through the foliage of the forest. "I am an ent."

"A treeherder!" Merry states, looking up at his timber face with complete awe. "A shepherd of the forest!"

"Don't talk to it Merry, don't encourage it!" Pippin spouts.

"Treebeard, some call me." The ent utters, averting his tamed gaze to a gobsmacked Merry.

Ents are quite unusual. Although intimidating in figure, their eyes alone can tell a story. Treebeard holds a look in his gaze which can represent that of a wolf. Soft and trusting to those familiar, but if put into a defensive state, rather menacing. And with his old, timber heart, the peaceful ent holds more compassion than you would ever expect from a tree.

"And whos side are you on?" Pippin questions, his own heart thumping at an excessive rate.

"Side? I am on nobody's side, because nobody is on my side, little orc. Nobody cares for the woods anymore." Treebeard rasps in his low, creaking voice.

However, the ent is completely wrong, for there is one girl in which the woods hold a special place in her heart.

"We're not orcs!" Merry exclaims, rather offended at the ent's assumption. "We're hobbits!"

"Hobbits..." A deep grumble occurs from within Treebeard's chest, and he ponders what the halfings testify. "Never heard of a hobbit before. Sounds like orc mischief to me!"

Merry and Pippin cry out in pain as the ent tightens his grip, the solid wood of his fingers digging into their soft bodies. Whimpering, the hobbits try to squirm free, but Treebeard's grip only turns more constricting.

"They come with fire, they come with axes!" The ent roars, his eyes reflecting the pain in which the dreaded species have inflicted on his own kind. "Gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, burn-"

"Put them down, Treebeard."

The ent stops in his tracks, his grip loosening on the hobbits as they breathe out in relief.

Robin stands in the middle of Treebeard's path, her bow hanging loosely in her grip to one side of her body, and the end of her mossy cloak lightly skimming the ground at her feet. She lowers her hood, staring up at the ent with a subtle grin.

"Robin!" The hobbits shout in excitment, and Treebeard's wooden eyebrows raise as he stares down at his little companion. However, a different name leaves the mouth of the ent, one in which startles the halfings.

"Eretria."

-

Thank you guys so much for 3k! And especially thank you to those who are continuing to stick with this book (:

So I looked up the definition of 'Robin' in the Urban Dictionary, and got the perfect description of our girl! (Except for the humble part, that's a bit far fetched lmao). How crazy!