Merry sat on a crude wooden stool in the dreary makeshift kitchen and stirred a foul-smelling mixture at the fire. He would rather not know the ingredients of the orcs' drink. The one taste he'd had on the march to Isengard told him all he cared to know. Yet here he was, cooking it up for his captors. A waste of good talent in the kitchen.

Hopping off the rickety stool, he went to finish his other regular chore, hauling firewood. The ever-burning fires needed to be fed wood constantly. Struggling with the heavy load, he took the corridor that ran opposite the one he last took. Though darker, he was fairly sure it led to the other end of the same cavern.

Along the path were dim openings he ached to investigate. Having cautiously tested how closely the orcs watched him, Merry had found that orcs were not good at minding. And so now the hobbit took every opportunity to wander in the hopes of finding Legolas and Gimli and, most importantly, finding their escape.

Three doorways here, two on the other side. Most openings seemed to lead into empty darkness, but he would brave the dark and whatever horror lay at the other end. Dumping his burden with a grunt, he began to retrace his path back to the kitchen. Now to investigate.

"There he is! That's the halfling, my servant! See what he's doing? I told him to bring the wood. That's his job, a job I assigned him to, 'cause he's my servant!"

"Since when do you got a servant, Norgry?"

"Since yesterday!"

Merry made an effort to keep his pace steady, though he wanted to run. He did not want Norgry to take more notice of him than he already had.

"Well, the lads ain't gonna like it! You lucky Mauhúr took care of Grishnákh on the march. He might've had something to say about it."

Norgry narrowed his eyes. "Wasn't luck. Just weren't no reason to stop him." He chuckled gruffly. "Let me worry about any rabble that gets it in their head to say something. Just you get back to work! Halfling! Get over here!"

Merry pulled up just as he reached the corridor, his stomach dropping. Reluctantly, he turned to the orc who would be his master. He tried not to think of him as such, but he could not deny that he took orders from Norgry.

"Yes, what would you like?" He bit back the automatic 'sir' he nearly added. He would not give this orc that much.

"Get over here, I said!"

Merry approached the knot of orcs, his desire to continue his investigations beckoning him into the darkness behind him. He halted just out of hands' reach of the orc, but Norgry started to scowl, and so he took the last few steps.

Norgry grabbed him by the collar and dragged him along. "Come on! Why are you so slow?" Merry tried to keep up with the long-legged creature, wondering at their destination.

Soon they were in a cavern deep in the center of the Pit, where Merry had dared not stray. Fires burned within a multitude of forges, lighting the area considerably more than where they had been. Before each forge, orcs worked with heavy hammers, pounding on what sounded like metal, likely soon to be weapons. The center of the large space was open to below, from where Merry heard strange growls and shrieks.

His attention was drawn back when Norgry began laughing as he approached a small group of orcs in one corner. "That's right, Lugdush. This is my halfling. He's my servant!"

Merry's stomach twisted in knots. Showing him off to the other orcs was only going to make them cross. Soon they would start resenting him and that would mean trouble for Merry.

Sure enough, Lugdush narrowed his eyes at the hobbit before returning his glare to Norgry. "So what? You think you're special now?"

"When was the last time you had a servant?" As Norgry said this, he lifted Merry by his collar. Merry felt like a prize Norgry was displaying. He tried not to flail his arms too foolishly and hoped the orc didn't suddenly release him.

As they argued, Norgry continued to hold him up, until Merry became bored, so he looked about the cavern. Weapons lay in heaps beside most orcs. Some piles looked like armor or helmets. He tried to avoid looking below. Something told him he didn't want to know what growled down there.

The cavern was bigger than he realized. The ceiling was somewhere beyond the light, and tunnels leading to who knew where ringed the room. There was a dark recess to their left and Merry wondered why there weren't any ovens there. Then a pair of orcs walked into the space and faded into the darkness. As Merry stared, his eyes adjusted to the dark and he could make out some lighter shapes, but the orcs blended into the murk and he could not see what went on.

He turned back to Norgry's conversation with Lugdush and saw that the group of orcs had grown larger. Their conversation was getting heated, and Norgry, still holding Merry aloft, now took to shaking him on occasion.

Suddenly all their attention was drawn away when the huge orc Uglúk drew near, shouting and cursing. He was moving towards the dark recess, calling back the two wandering orcs.

"Did I say it was time for play?" Uglúk punctuated his question with his fist against their heads. "You do nothing until I say you can! Now get back to work!" He used his fist again for emphasis and sent them on their way.

"Just wanted a little break!"

"We're still getting the work done! What are you worried about?"

"Never mind, Fagrod, let's go," said his companion, holding his head.

A sick feeling coalesced in Merry's stomach. He peered into the dark recess again, but he could make out little and wished Norgry would release him.

As if the creature had heard his thoughts, Norgry suddenly put him down. "If you touch him, I'll make sure you regret it—by separating your head from your body. Do you hear?" They were coming dangerously close to blows, and Merry thought it was best he step away, regardless of what lurked in the dark beyond.

As they shouted and hollered, Merry crept closer to the recess, until the lighter colors coalesced into firm shapes. Figures. Bodies. That weren't orcish bodies.

He had found Legolas and Gimli.

He had thought the sight of them would gladden him, but he'd never imagined this sight. They were hanging by chains attached to cuffs about their wrists. Their bare backs were a mesh of red strips and purple blotches. Those orcs, Merry realized, had gone to torture them—to play, they had called it. Their heads hung down against the wall, unaware of him.

"Norgry!" Uglúk's voice boomed out suddenly. "You letting that halfling roam free now? He's not supposed to be in here!" He stalked over and cuffed Norgry, who ducked before he could land another blow.

"All right, all right!" Norgry looked around, just realizing Merry had wandered off.

Merry saw his cue and ran up to the other side of Norgry. "I'm right here."

"There you are! Come!" He grabbed Merry roughly by the arm and dragged him off again.

Merry let him drag him, looking back into the dark alcove that was his friends' prison, his heart breaking.

Back in the kitchen, Merry's plans for sneaking about ruined, Norgry attempted to reprimand Merry. "What did I say about wandering? Now do your work!"

"I was doing my work!" Merry said with indignation. "You dragged me away to show me off."

Norgry's eyes narrowed and Merry thought he'd gone too far. "You watch yourself, rat." He bent close to Merry's face. "Or you'll be hanging with your friends, see? If I get tired of you, there'll be no use for you then. Nothing but playtime!"

As Norgry left, Merry stood there, chilled. Playtime. Legolas and Gimli were toys for the orcs. He had been so anxious to find them, and now he wished he could wipe from his memory the sight of them. Despair washed over him as he wondered if he'd get another chance to look for escape or to approach his friends.

He grimaced and with a sigh, climbed back onto the stool. Recalling clearly the cuffs from which they'd hung, he knew he had no way to free them. As he stirred, he wondered when they last had taken any food or drink. Surely Gimli was in danger of dying of hunger and thirst by now. Anger surged in him over his helplessness and almost overcame his despair.

Then suddenly, there was the incongruous chirp of a cricket, and he nearly forgot his dismal discovery. He listened for heavy booted steps, but all was relatively quiet. He peered behind him where he'd heard the sound. "Pip?"

The "cricket" chirped again, and Merry followed the noise, grabbing a handful of wood along the way, in case he found himself suddenly in need of a purpose.

A hand reached out and pulled him around the corner into the stairwell. "Merry! How are you?" Merry grabbed his captor in a fierce hug, reluctant to let go even when Pippin pulled away. "Are you all right?"

"I—I'm fine, Pip," he said, wishing he had no news to tell. How could he describe what he had seen? How could he not?

"Have you eaten?" Pippin looked at him with some concern. "I brought some more bread and fruit. They're somewhat fresh."

"You are a wonder!" Merry bit into the apple immediately. "It's not so bad, not too old at all. How are you, Pip?"

"I'm fine, Merry, really. Don't worry about me. Just listen."

Merry reluctantly shut his mouth, holding on to the questions that filled his head. How did Saruman treat Pippin? He wanted news on Aragorn and how he fared. Did he suffer much under Saruman's watch? These would go unanswered, for he could tell Pippin had news.

"I haven't much time. There's something you must know." Pippin peeked up into the stairwell. "I've heard something. From Saruman. I've heard his plans, Merry. We've got to do something—soon." He checked the stairwell again.

"What are you talking about? What can we do about Saruman?" Merry was struck by the serious tone with which Pippin spoke.

"I don't know what we can do, but we can't just sit by and let him go!"

"Go? Saruman? Where is he going?"

"To Edoras, to see the King of Rohan. King Théoden he is called, and I think he's an ally of Saruman. Saruman seems to think he'll agree to anything he asks, at any rate. He's talking about Strider leading Rohan to Gondor to fight Mordor."

Merry took a moment to sift through Pippin's ramblings. "Saruman is trying to gather an army to fight against Mordor? I thought he was on Sauron's side. And he wants Strider to fight beside the King of Rohan?" He tried to put what Pippin said into a strategy Saruman might make.

"That's what he's told Strider, but really, he's planning to give Strider to Sauron! There's an army from Mordor coming across Rohan. I think he's trying to double-cross everyone so that he comes out on top. Maybe he thinks he'll be king of Gondor, too. Saruman thinks he's clever enough to fool even Sauron. But first he's planning to go out to Edoras with Strider, and he's bringing an army of orcs with him!" Pippin stopped to catch his breath.

"He's going to hand Strider over to Sauron!"

"I'm not sure what Saruman truly intends for Strider, but don't you understand? This is even bigger than Strider now. Saruman is bringing an army of orcs to Edoras. If they refuse to fight for Saruman, they'll be attacked with no warning. They'll all be destroyed! He might attack Gondor when they refuse to fight for him, too!"

Merry was surprised at Pippin's understanding of Saruman's battle strategy. He hadn't presented the scenario clearly at first, but he understood the greater implications of what was happening. "Wait, you said Aragorn might command an army for Saruman. Why would he do that?" He paused as he thought on what Pippin had not said. "Pippin, is Strider under Saruman's spell?"

Pippin glanced away at the question and Merry's heart sunk. "Not exactly." He sighed. "You see, well..."

"Pippin, you don't have much time. Now out with it!"

"He lays Strider's hands on this Seeing Stone, a palantír."

"Palantír? What the plague is that?"

"It's this awful-looking, black-as-night stone. But when Saruman makes Strider touch it, which is often, it begins to glow like fire. He sees things then, like the Rohirrim fighting—and dying—in a battle with orcs. Strider says the Stone can't make up its own visions, so I think he's come to believe what he's seeing is real. And then once there was—Sauron." Pippin's voice dropped to a whisper.

"Sauron..." Merry shuddered.

"He spoke to Strider through the Stone. That's when he decided he wanted him, I suppose. Because after that, Saruman started with these plans." Pippin was as serious as Merry had ever seen him. "After he's finished with Strider, the man's just worn out, more tired than I've ever seen him. And, well, he doesn't know where he is for a while. I have to help him see that he's out. But every time he does it, it lasts longer. His mind is tiring, and so now when Saruman talks to him, I think he's starting to believe all that Saruman tells him."

Merry was horrified. He understood what Pippin had been doing above. He said he'd been looking after Strider, but he was actually trying to keep the man from going mad. "What's he starting to believe?"

"What Saruman says about not being able to win the war. He's trying to get Strider to give up, and he's winning, Merry. I think he's figured out a way to use Strider somehow, against Rohan or maybe against Gondor. Or maybe he will give him to Sauron," now Pippin frowned in thought, "so Sauron won't be mad at him, or maybe so he won't suspect when Saruman tries to fight him. However he uses him will be awful, but now all of Rohan is in great danger. They must be warned!"

His cousin's earnest plea tore at Merry's heart. He never did have much defense when Pippin got this way. But they had to get out of this tower to do anything. Couldn't Pippin see that? "Pip, I've done my best to find an escape. But I've had no luck yet. Without a way out, what can we do?"

"Well, we must, Merry, and now. More than our friends are in need of us."

Merry looked at his cousin. He had worried so much about him, how he would bear these trials, if he had enough to eat and drink. But despite the physical sufferings, Pippin had managed something Merry hadn't expected. His view of the world had widened farther than the Shire, farther than his friends. His young cousin had suddenly grown up.

He nodded to Pippin. "You're right, of course. We must find a way out. How is beyond me. But I will figure something out." That brought back a glimmer of hope to Pippin's eyes, and Merry felt some small relief. As they had suspected days ago, escape was up to them. If they managed it, such a feat would truly be fit for song. "Our friends need us and many others, too. We can't fail them. We won't fail them."

"That's right, Merry. That's right." He paused for a moment, glancing up the stairs once more. "No sign of Legolas or Gimli?"

Would the truth strengthen or dash the tentative hope in Pippin's face? He feared to dishearten the young hobbit, but Pippin's look of purpose when he decided they must stop the ambush of Rohan dispelled that fear. "They're alive, Pippin. I've learned that much."

Pippin's eyes grew wide then stopped. "Have you seen them, Merry?"

He hesitated before answering, swallowing hard. "Yes." He stared back at Pippin, willing him not to ask for more.

Pippin's gaze was intense, and Merry saw his comprehension. Finally, Pippin nodded. "They're alive."