Pippin gazed anxiously at the Forest that now accompanied their march to Isengard. In the early morning light, the dark woods that ran along their path appeared less forbidding than they had in the midst of night.

Chewing on a crust of hard bread, Pippin contemplated whether the orcs would take them through the forest. They had already been in the hands of the orcs for four long days. Reaching Saruman's stronghold could take many more-since he hadn't paid much heed to all the talk of maps and such in Rivendell, he had no way of knowing.

Only two days earlier, he and Merry had convinced their guards that they must eat if they were to be brought to Saruman alive, resulting in occasional bread and water. But it was no hobbit breakfast he ate, first or second. How long must they survive on these crusts?

Their predicament was worrisome. The thongs about his wrists were as tight as ever, wearing the skin beneath them raw, and the scrutiny they were under rarely wavered. Though the disquiet in his heart had eased somewhat the previous day on seeing three of their friends alive and hale, it was not quite the meeting Pippin had hoped for. And though he had managed rare glimpses of them since, he had thought they looked unwell. Perhaps they had not succeeded in convincing the orcs that they, too, needed food to survive.

Pippin had insisted on keeping hope for their friends, hope that they lived. But neither he nor Merry had counted on their capture. How would they get out of this mess now?

Pippin sighed. It might be that the burden lay with them. Only he and his cousin might have the strength or the opportunity to make an escape. Perhaps Elrond had been right and this was no place for young hobbits. Well, sitting among enormous, smelly, constantly quarreling creatures such as these seemed no place for anyone-unless you were an orc.

There was no one left now. Frodo and Sam hadn't come with them. That the pair had begun the doomed trek with the others but had not made it to this point was a notion Pippin could not consider. Either of them may have continued to Mordor on their own-no, that was too a dreadful prospect. He quickly pushed the idea aside.

No Frodo and no Sam. No Gandalf. No Gandalf ever again. Another pang seized his chest as his grief surged again. It then doubled as he pondered the fate of Boromir. He tried to keep a hope for him, but it was like a candle against a gale and all but flickered out.

The Fellowship was dead.

In all likelihood, their Company was down to the five of them now captives of orcs bound for Isengard, to be delivered to Saruman. The wizard would undoubtedly demand the Ring and then torture them when he learned they did not have it, demanding they reveal its location.

Pippin looked over at Merry, who nibbled at his bread on occasion but seemed otherwise lost in thought. What he contemplated, Pippin couldn't say and wondered if he intended to devise an escape. Well, someone must. And might not that someone be me? He was looking to every other for his rescue but himself. He might wait a long time.

Pippin's musings were interrupted by a harsh laugh. "Ah! You shoulda been there!" Two orcs were walking by, one carelessly swinging a dirty sword. "It was a good time. Never played with a dwarf afore. Fagrod's the lad to talk to, see if you get a piece next time."

"Aye, I shall. Can't complain about the sport with the man, though. Except for the part about not letting him die. Being careful. Kinda spoils the fun if you ask me."

Pippin stared, frozen in place. If he moved, his entire body might revolt. His stomach threatened to upheave what little lay there. His eyes were suddenly moist with tears ready to flow. And many, many words quivered on the tip of his tongue, straining for release. Instead, he sat entirely still, afraid even to look at Merry.

"Yeh, well, Saruman didn't ask if you'd mind, did he? Didn't ask Uglúk, neither, and he was right pissed!" Another raspy guffaw. "Did you see him? Glaring and grumbling about having to keep mortals alive! I heard he went over and had some good sport with the elf after that."

"Sure I heard. Wouldn't wanna be that elf!"

"You got that!" The orcs settled down on a nearby rock, still chortling as they began to watch some sort of gambling game.

Suddenly Pippin needed to breathe, and he broke the spell over his body. Forcefully releasing a breath, he threw his crust of bread to the ground in disgust. "Merry, we've got to do something," he said, strangling his voice into a whisper.

Merry looked at him strangely, as if he'd said he really didn't care for mushrooms all that much. "Do something?" he said in a harsh whisper. Merry's face was red, but that was the only sign of his anger. "And just what did you have in mind?"

"Well, nothing yet--but if I manage to have a good think on it, I bet I could come up with something."

"A good think on it?" Merry's face reddened further. "And what do you think I've been doing since we've been let off those stinking orcs? It's not a matter of simply coming up with something, Pippin. This isn't like sneaking into the farm to steal some mushrooms."

"But Merry, didn't you hear them? The longer-"

"Of course I heard them! You don't think it cuts me to the quick to hear it? Do you think I feel nothing, Pip?"

Pippin paused. He hadn't meant to anger Merry. He took a breath to calm himself. "It's just, the longer we take to think of a way out of here, the more they suffer. Besides, I was thinking the orcs would watch them more closely, thinking that Big Folk are more dangerous and such. There's got to be something we can manage."

Merry seemed to calm, taking a breath of his own. "They'll be in no shape to help us or to escape themselves anyway," Merry said quietly. "Although, those beasts will have to keep them in condition to march. But that may be all they'll be up to managing."

"Which is why it's up to us. There must be a way. We just have to figure it out." Pippin couldn't understand Merry's seeming reluctance, when just the day before he'd agreed with Pippin that escape would have to come from them. After what they'd just heard, he had expected a bit more eagerness from Merry.

In a harsh whisper, Merry answered, "Just like that, is it, Pip? We're simply going to walk away? Our hands are bound. We're miles from any village. All we've had to eat for days is this crust of bread and some foul water. And someone's always guarding us. Do you see any way out of this? Unless there's another spectacle like yesterday to distract them, I certainly don't."

The despair he heard in his cousin's voice dismayed him nearly as much as the thought of his friends' treatment. Hope. If Merry could not hold on to it, he would carry it for them both. "Haven't you noticed, cousin, how bored the guards have grown with minding us? They watch us much less closely than they did at first. They don't think we're up to anything. We've just got to keep giving them that impression, and soon they'll stop being so careful with us."

Merry turned an eye to Pippin. "And then?"

"Well, there's always the Forest."

"Fangorn Forest? Have you forgotten the Old Forest? Old Man Willow?"

"I'd rather wrestle with Old Man Willow than these orcs. Besides, we've dealt with Old Man Willow, and now perhaps we'd know how to handle any ill-meaning trees." Merry simply looked at him as if perhaps an orc had hit Pippin one too many times on the head. "Fine, Merry, we'll keep thinking. There's got to be something."

He sat back against the rock they leaned on, retrieving his discarded bread as he abandoned the argument. He was still convinced Fangorn Forest was a perfectly acceptable escape plan. All right, a sufficient one. It was certainly worth considering, which was more than Merry seemed inclined to do.

"Just lie down and try to get some rest," Merry said finally. "We'll be marching again soon enough." He laid himself down, turning his back to Pippin.

Pippin dismissed his cousin's brooding and looked around. Sure enough, their guards were now chatting with another orc, only glancing at them on occasion. Well, Pippin couldn't imagine sitting here without any possibility of escape.

He laid himself down to give the impression he was going to sleep. They'd surely stop watching him then. He needed only a short while. He would show Merry he could reach the edge of camp and return without notice. He would show him escape was still possible.

After a few minutes, he cracked open a lid. The pair watching them had wandered over to the game. Here was his chance. There had to be some chance, hadn't there? This was not the end for them. It simply could not be.

He remained low to the ground, scurrying slowly backwards towards the bushes behind a rock. Soon enough he was behind the bushes. Out of sight. No one had noticed. He only needed to crawl around this bush-

Pippin bumped directly into a pair of thick legs covered in dirty leggings. A short blade hung from a belt, next to a whip. One grey hand clenched into a fist.

Pippin looked up at a snarling face. He supposed he had made a mistake about nobody noticing. Merry would really get him for this one.

"Uh, hello, I was just looking-="

"You were looking for some trouble, you were!" The uruk grabbed Pippin by his cloak and dragged him back to his place.

"Pippin, what are you doing?" Pippin was dismayed by the horror and anger in Merry's face as he rose from his bed of grass.

"He got it in his mind to wander." The orc bent down close to Pippin, giving him a big sniff of rancid breath. "Didn't we tell you no tricks?" He turned to the orcs that had been gambling. "Weren't you supposed to be watching these two?"

Pippin looked up at the beast. He hadn't thought of getting caught. He hadn't thought of something to say. He hadn't thought much at all, he supposed.

Merry looked more angry than anything else. Pippin looked at the ground. He hadn't shown Merry anything hopeful.

"Well, I just have to teach you what happens when you play tricks on us!" The orc cackled as he pulled out his whip.

Pippin's eyes grew wider and he leaned as far away as he could while still in the orc's grip. He shoved the whip in Pippin's face. "Now you'll think twice before trying to wander!" He pulled the whip out its full length. Still holding onto Pippin, he cracked the whip across his legs.

Pippin felt the sharp sting of the whip across his legs and bit down a yelp, wishing Merry weren't there to see it. His legs felt as if they were on fire, but thoughts of what Merry would say to him burned hotter.

"What's going on here?" a deep gruff voice came up behind Pippin.

"I'm teaching this halfling about tricks and wandering. As in not doing it!"

"Wandering, eh?"

"I caught him in the bushes over there. I think he was gonna make a run for it."

"Well, that's enough of a lesson. Any more and he won't be able to march and then you'll have to carry him again. How's that for a lesson! Next time, you bring him to me, you hear?" The orc holding Pippin took one look at him and dropped him with a snarl. Both orcs stomped away without another word.

Pippin looked down at his legs, a bright red welt growing across them. He couldn't bring himself to look at Merry and instead watched his cousin's approaching feet. After some moments of silence, Merry crouched next to him.

"What were you thinking?" The harshness in Merry's voice brought Pippin's eyes up. The anger he found was greater than he had ever seen in his cousin's face, and words failed him. Words were useless anyway. Merry wouldn't understand what he'd tried to do-what he'd failed to do. He let his head fall to the ground.

"Pippin, look at me." Pippin lay there in silence. "Peregrin Took, look. At. Me." There was nothing for it. He wouldn't let this go until he'd had his say. Stifling a sigh, Pippin looked up at his cousin.

His eyes were blazing, but Pippin thought he saw more than annoyance there now. His cousin's eyes bore into him silently for a moment before he spoke. "I know what you were trying to do. I understand. But what you seem to have forgotten is that this isn't the Shire. This is the world of the Big Folk. Everything's bigger out here. Getting caught isn't like Farmer Maggot telling your Da you were sneaking mushrooms again. This is life and death."

Pippin couldn't keep the words from springing from his mouth. "Well, you seem quite ready to die here, Merry! I'm not ready to die, and I'm not going to let them kill me so easily!"

Merry smiled, in a slow, queer way Pippin couldn't quite figure. "That's good, Pip. Neither am I. But we've got to be smart about this. That means we think through whatever plan we come up with, make sure it's going to work. And we work together. One of us can't escape on our own, but two of us just might manage. Do you understand now?"

Pippin found something of a smile for his cousin. Mayhap he still held onto his hope. He nodded. "Right. No making plans without you. We think it through. We'll find a way out."

Merry's smile grew, but too broadly, so Pippin could see how it was forced at the edges. His chest constricted again. "That we will, cousin," Merry said. "We must-how will the others escape? They have no one else. Now lie down and get some rest. When the time comes, we must be prepared to act, and then we won't know when next we'll rest."

Pippin considered that. Did Merry have a plan in mind already? He would have shared his thoughts with Pippin if he had. Perhaps Merry's lack of action was preparation for a time when they would need to act without hesitation, and he wanted Pippin rested and ready for flight.

Pippin was tired, his legs burned, and he'd lost the last of his bread. Unsure of where Merry's thoughts truly lay, he had nothing left to do but sleep. And so he laid his head down in the grass, ignoring the orcs, the high sun, and his empty stomach.