Watching Strider speak with Merry, the depths of the man's weariness surprised Pippin nearly as much as Strider's failure to hide it from them. Pippin had not thought to ever see the end of his endurance, nor to be the cause of it.

They were all at their limits. Even Legolas, though he sat quietly, revealed his pain through his stiff posture. And now here they were, in Saruman's Tower. Surrounded by this black stone, without light or air, was there hope for escape any longer? His pointless attempt two days previous had gotten him only a lash on the legs. Legolas's attempt—more hopeful or more desperate?—had earned the elf far worse. Pippin found it hard to expect another opportunity.

What was clear to him was their need to think swiftly, if Merry and he were to do anything to help the others. For once Saruman learned that the hobbits did not have the Ring, he would likely see no reason to keep them alive. The thought twisted Pippin's stomach with fear, but he knew it for the truth.

He wondered, would Saruman kill them right off? Would he give them to the orcs to play with until they died of their torment? Would he put them under his spell till they finally revealed the secrets they held? Pippin didn't know which possibility chilled him more.

Saruman had proved secrets were no great obstacle for him. He had but to ask and the answers poured from one's mouth, it seemed. Pippin shivered. Aragorn—no, Strider—barely kept his secret from the wizard. What chance did he, a mere hobbit, have? What would he tell Saruman in the end?

His heart racing, Pippin turned to the doorway as a clamor of footsteps approached. As much as he feared seeing who or what would pass through the entrance, he could not tear his eyes from the opening. The dimness gave way to light as fires burned in sconces not lit before.

As Saruman's figure filled the doorway, dressed in white robes, staff in hand, he seemed larger than he had standing before the forest. Then, there had been something soft about him. Pippin had thought of Gandalf, and how this was someone Gandalf had once held in high esteem. This wizard before them now looked hard and cold and brought no thoughts of Gandalf.

Pippin suppressed a shudder as orcs surrounded them, pulling them to their knees. "Kneel before your Master!" The wizard wore a smile that failed to reach his eyes. The smug expression annoyed Pippin, but when Saruman's eyes landed upon him, Pippin trembled.

Saruman strode across the room and took a seat on his throne, an elaborately carved chair in a recess opposite the entrance. "Welcome to Isengard." He smirked as he looked upon each of them in turn as they knelt in a rough half-circle before him. "So, this is the rag-tag company who decided they knew what was best for all of Middle-earth."

He scrutinized them carefully. "There were more of you at the start," he said slowly. "Yes, I know much about you. And Uglúk has related to me your attempts to thwart his task. Perhaps your losses and the consequences suffered have taught you the foolishness of this errand. If not, you shall soon learn."

He turned to Pippin and the hobbit's stomach flipped. "Some losses are unfortunate. But of others, I must know more. This need not be an unpleasant visit," Saruman continued, his voice softer than before. "Simply provide me with the whereabouts of the other halflings, and you shall be spared."

Gimli let out a boisterous laugh, startling Pippin. "You truly think us fools. There is no such thing as mercy in this tower. We would sooner take our chances with the orcs!"

Saruman scowled. "Well, then," he said after a long moment, "if you prefer to do so, you shall. Fagrod! Take the dwarf below. Do what you please."

Pippin's mouth dropped open in time with his stomach. He heard Merry gasp quietly beside him, and even Legolas's eyes widened as he watched orcs take Gimli away.

Saruman's eye returned to his prisoners as the dwarf was dragged out of the room, leaving a few orcs standing against the walls. When the wizard's glance fell upon Pippin once again, the hobbit's chest tightened and breathing became more difficult. He tried hard to think of anything but what he knew Saruman would want to learn and filled his mind with visions of the Shire, his family, the Green Dragon, a pint of ale and—He stopped as he realized he was sharpening his ache for home without cause. Saruman had moved on to Merry, then to Strider, and now Legolas.

The wizard's gaze lingered on the elf. Saruman cocked an eyebrow but did not lose his smug expression. "I must say, my orcs certainly did their best to find the limit of an elf's endurance." Legolas fixed his defiance onto his face, staring straight ahead at nothing as he knelt before the wizard.

Saruman chuckled, his voice full of condescension. "What would your father say, Thranduilion, to your present plight? I deem he would be rather disappointed. Though your choice to travel with a dwarf might prove more disturbing.

"I will give you an opportunity to make yourself useful. You need only give me the location of the other two halflings who began the journey with you." Pippin's stomach lurched. He did not know if Legolas would be able to withstand Saruman's questioning. The elf looked ready to fall over.

Slowly, Legolas turned his gaze to Saruman in his chair—bold, stern, unyielding. His denial needed no words.

Saruman's gaze grew hard. He leaned forward as his eyes wandered over them, once, then twice. His silence worried Pippin more than anything he had said yet.

Saruman rose then, smiling, and Pippin's fear grew once more as he stepped down from the chair. "Elfling that you are, you believe you can withstand any torment to keep your silence. And likely you would." He strode closer to them. "But there are many forms of pain, young one." His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "What would you do for the sake of others?" Pippin's blood ran cold, though he knew not Saruman's intentions. He only knew they were not good.

The wizard turned then to Pippin and Merry. "Halflings. Long has it been since I have seen any." He then returned to Legolas. "They are far afield, are they not? It must seem such a pity to you, to involve them in such matters that are far higher, far larger than they."

The wistfulness in Saruman's voice made Pippin uneasy, and he shifted his aching knees. "More of a pity would it be for them to suffer torment." The eyes of the elf were riveted to the wizard as he went on. "Undoubtedly, they believe themselves strong and brave. Such naiveté and innocence need not be destroyed."

Saruman was silent for some moments before he said suddenly, "You will choose—this halfling or the man." Pippin was at once alarmed and relieved that he had singled out Merry. "Choose one of them. The other shall be... interrogated. If you choose neither, both shall be questioned."

Pippin pressed his fist into his mouth to stifle a gasp as Legolas's expression faltered and his eyes grew wide. Beyond him, Aragorn closed his eyes and hung his head.

Legolas said nothing, but Pippin could see the tension in his face. The hobbit's mind reeled with the thought of choosing to condemn one friend to save the other, yet not making the decision meant both would suffer. Pippin ached for Legolas. He wanted to say something, but his mouth was sealed shut.

He glanced over at Merry and found a furious look on his face. But his cousin remained as silent as Aragorn. It seemed even the heir to Gondor's throne would not cross Saruman. Were they going to let this happen?

"So! I ask you once more: give me the location of the other halflings, and these two shall remain unharmed."

Legolas swallowed hard, his face revealing hints of the indecision within. Finally, he sighed heavily and regained some of the strength Pippin had thought he'd lost. "Both Hobbits and Men are stouter than you measure them, Saruman," Legolas said, anger lacing his voice. "They shall surprise you." Pippin suppressed a shiver and closed his eyes. Was there no hope at all?

Saruman laughed loudly, banging his staff on the stone floor. "Just the foolish response I would expect from any who agreed to such a journey as yours." He bent closer to him. "You would rather both your friends suffer? Such selfishness. But then you are an elf. Elves will always choose their own pride, regardless of the consequences to others. Men are much more practical."

He tipped his head to Aragorn. "His kind expect all others to accept self-sacrifice as easily as they do." Saruman smiled cruelly. "I pray you have no illusions of this Ranger's loyalty to you. If it were convenient and practical, he would betray you in a heartbeat." Aragorn watched Saruman closely but silently. "He would let you rot in the bowels of Mordor before offering the position of the sun."

Such slander against a friend was unbearable, against one so loyal and noble was intolerable. Yet not one of them uttered a sound! Legolas was forced into an impossible position, and Aragorn had not said one word to sway Saruman from it.

"Aragorn would never do such a thing!"

As soon as Pippin spoke, he knew he'd said something wrong. He wasn't sure what or why, but the look of horror on Aragorn's face told him that he should have kept his peace. Merry turned to him, his expression full of regret.

And to leave no doubt, the scrutiny Saruman now gave him was terrifying. He took a step toward Pippin, who strove to maintain his gaze with the wizard. "Is that so?" Pippin was confused but refused to look away. The smile that blossomed on Saruman's face chilled him, and Pippin wondered at the import of his words. All he had said was—Pippin gasped as realization came over him. He wanted to sink into the floor and finally looked down at the hard stone, unable to meet anyone's eyes.

He saw Saruman's feet walk over to Aragorn. Aragorn. He never called him Aragorn! Pippin squeezed his eyes shut and longed to take back his words.

Slowly, calmly, in a voice that hinted at a terrible future, Saruman said, "There is only one Aragorn in all of Middle-earth." Pippin looked up to see Aragorn—no, Strider—looking at a wall with great interest. He looked away before Strider could look at him with reproach.

"Could it be that I have in my grasp the only heir of Isildur? The heir to the throne of Gondor?" Strider said nothing, and Pippin supposed there was nothing he could say. Saruman wouldn't believe a denial. Regardless, Pippin was not about to say another word. Ever again.

Merry elbowed him hard and Pippin stifled a gasp. "How could you?" he mouthed with a frown. He said no more, but Pippin didn't need to hear a word. He just shook his head and shrugged. There was no explanation he could offer.

Strider had turned to face Saruman now, choosing not to deny Saruman's words. They locked gazes for what seemed an age, then Saruman began to laugh. Slowly at first, then loudly, stomping his staff. The revelation rather pleased him—which meant bad things for them. And it was all Pippin's fault. He gave up his attempts to hold in his regret and let his tears flow openly. Merry knelt beside him, silent.

Pippin jumped when Saruman turned back to him with a smile. "I must thank you, halfling." He turned to the orcs lining the room, alert—or perhaps wary—for a call from their master. "Machlhug, Norgry, Uglúk! Machlhug, bring this halfling to where I take my meals and give him something to eat. Norgry, take the elf down below. He is not in the mood to talk... yet. See that his mood changes. Return him—and the dwarf—to me by nightfall. Alive. They are not to die until I give the word. Make sure the others know this. If either of them dies, it will be your head.

"Uglúk, you have served me well. Take this other halfling. He has spirit, but he is a small creature and will likely die far too soon to give any of you sport. I give him now to you as a servant. He may prove useful for you down below. Use him where you need some assistance. As with the others, he is not to die, remember that. I will yet need to speak with him. Go with Norgry and be sure that all goes as I have said. Machlhug, take the man with you and the halfling. He must remain alive as well. That means he must eat, I suspect." He looked about him. "That is all! Now go!"

What he intended to do with Strider now, Pippin had no notion. If there were any way that he could make it up to the man, he would find it, he swore.

The smile Saruman wore brought up the bile in Pippin's stomach as he watched orcs take away his friends. He mourned for Legolas already as he was dragged to his feet and forced to limp away. He turned to speak to Merry, but was overwhelmed by the despair he found in his cousin's face, and simply watched him disappear into the gloom.

And then he was alone. Nearby was Strider, a friend lost to him by his betrayal. And there was Saruman, who held them all in this tower of stone, leagues from the Shire. Their presence only accentuated Pippin's sudden and overwhelming loneliness. He was crushed, suffocated by his isolation.

Pippin took a deep breath, dispelling a bit of the gloom that had settled around him. He was alone in Orthanc, for who knew how long, but he was not ready to surrender. He would do what he could for the moment. He owed Strider that much.