The sounds of orcs quarreling and scuffling had grown to a steady din as dusk became night. For some unknown time, chaos had seemed to reign. The peak of the frenzy had been punctuated by the head of the miserable orc they called Grishnákh rolling past the two hobbits before the madness had gradually subsided. Now, as horrid faces gathered round distant fires to recount their roles in the violence with glee, Pippin questioned his cousin with his eyes.

"It's a bit quieter than earlier. But they're still distracted. We could try moving around a bit, see if they notice," Merry said. "But we can't simply take off without thinking it through, right, Pip?" Pippin nodded, and they struggled to their feet.

"Ai!" one of their guards cried as soon as they had taken a few steps. So the orcs were more observant than they appeared to be. "What are you doing?"

"Just stretching our legs. That's all."

The other orc slapped the first on the arm. "Look! I gotta see this."

"What's gonna be better than seeing Grishnákh's head lopped off? Now that's a sight that'll bring a smile to my face for days to come. Ain't gonna get any better than that! 'Sides, we're on guard."

"Hey, after you seen that, you never can say what's gonna happen next. I ain't missing it—come on!"

"And what are we supposed to do? Carry these vermin on our backs?"

The other orc's eyes lit up. "Nah, but we could bring them! Come, you two. You're with us. No tricks or I'll use this-and I'll enjoy it, see? So it won't take much for me to pull it out! Not a word now!" He put his knife away and grabbed Pippin. The other grabbed Merry, and the hobbits were led by their guards into the crowd.

As they neared the gathering, an odd change crawled over the group. First distant and then closer groups became subdued. Eventually, a confused tension smothered the raucous atmosphere of the entire crowd. The orcs now chattered in taut, low voices.

Pippin feared this calm more than the earlier clamor. Trying to pull himself closer to Merry, he watched the transformation with wide eyes, but he dared not speak.

As the orcs pushed ahead to have the best view, the hobbits were crushed amid a sea of grey legs, old leather, and crude metal weapons, surrounded by the smell of old meat, something akin to whiskey, and the general stink of orc. Their guards clutched their necks in claw-like hands, keeping them close.

Merry seemed to have the better vista, while Pippin was relegated to a view behind another orc. But he would see something of what had the attention of all these creatures, so Pippin ignored his surroundings as best he could.

A shout came from across the camp. Movement rippled through the horde, followed by more scuffling and shouting. The commotion drew nearer. "Do you see anything, Merry?" His cousin only shook his head, so Pippin, also unable to see past the hulking bodies, resigned himself to wait.

Merry was still as he watched the crowd. Then his eyes widened and he clutched at Pippin's arm as furtively as he could with his bound hands. "Pip! Look!"

Pippin anxiously angled his head from side to side, attempting to see what held Merry's attention. The orcs' legs were in the way! And there were so many of them. For a moment, while he had no desire to be other than a hobbit, he might have appreciated being a rather tall hobbit, perhaps a few inches taller. As it was, they would have seen nothing at all if it weren't for one or two orcs with torches in hand.

Then-what was that? The crowd had parted to let someone pass. There, again, fair hair reflecting nearby torchlight. The pale head looked up and Merry gasped beside him. "Legolas," Pippin breathed.

As the elf drew nearer, Pippin could see a smaller figure marching ahead of him. He heard Merry's voice faintly through the din. "I don't know whether to be glad I was right or to wish I'd been wrong."

Pippin glanced up at their captors, but they had become completely engrossed in the parade of prisoners. Besides, they couldn't hear them talk, even if they had been paying attention, with the ruckus around them. "But it looks like they're captives indeed," Merry continued, "just as we are. Only I don't know what they're planning for them now. They seem to be leading them somewhere."

Though Pippin's heart ached to think to what fate his friends marched, he was elated to see them again. He was glad, too, to see them seemingly hale and whole. Pippin peered around legs and weapons to keep his friends in sight. After a few moments, they neared enough that he began to lose sight of them among the crowd in front of him. Then an orc shifted and the scene opened up before him.

Gimli was first in the forced march, led by an orc. Ropes bound the dwarf's hands, much like the hobbits, yet he walked straight and to his full height. Pippin was disconcerted to see him without his ever-present axe at his side. Well, you don't have to shave your feet, Merry.

As he looked closer, he saw cuts and bruises on the dwarf's face he hadn't worn when Pippin had last seen him. And now he could see that Gimli's gait wasn't as true as it first seemed. Blood on his trousers told of a wound he undoubtedly got in the imagined battle. Now it was all too real-and Gimli clearly hadn't given up without a fight.

Legolas walked behind him, linked by a rope to metal cuffs that bound his hands. They were taking no chances with an elf, Pippin supposed. Legolas also walked tall, meeting the orcs' jeers with a glare that flustered or angered many.

Pippin was dismayed again, despite the elf's defiance, to see that his face was also bruised and scratched and his braided hair was tangled and matted with dirt. His tunic was in such shreds that Pippin could easily see the plentiful injuries done to Legolas's body, and he wished the beasts had spared the garment.

"They've got Strider too!" Merry whispered.

To Pippin's dismay, another captive indeed followed Legolas in the line. What was Strider doing here? Surely not rescuing them? Was Boromir with them as well, then, he wondered, clinging to hope beyond reason. Did Frodo and Sam not go to Mordor after all? Were they on their way to Gondor instead? Or had their journey ended at the Anduin? Terror washed over Pippin at the thought.

Pippin was momentarily grieved when no one followed Strider. He had quickly gathered up unfounded hope that he would see all his friends, alive if not well. When he did not, he was all the more confused. Where could they be?

Pippin's hope began to crumble. He had not seen Frodo since his cousin had walked off along the shore of the Anduin, before the orcs had attacked. So much could have happened since.

"What I can't figure," Merry continued, "is why the three of them would come after the two of us. How could Strider leave Frodo and Sam without a guide?"

Pippin looked at Merry, his hope in pieces. His cousin was trying so very hard and all for him. He would say it, and show his cousin he could be brave. His lip quivered. "Merry, Frodo and Sam might have gone with them."

"And where would they be, then?" Merry said with a fierce scowl.

Pippin didn't answer, shocked at his cousin's outburst. Perhaps his efforts were not for Pippin but for himself. "Or, maybe-maybe Strider and the others didn't have a choice but to leave them."

Merry considered his words, calming quickly, and nodded. "Legolas and Gimli gave chase after this army. They very well couldn't bring Frodo and Sam on such a trek. But Strider would never leave them..." Merry shook his head. "There's more to this tale than we know, cousin."

Yes, Pippin thought, so much more. They knew nothing at all. No, that wasn't quite true. Pippin knew one thing, if he paid attention. Frodo lived. He knew this somehow. He would not question it. When he would forget to hope, he would remember this.

It was far more distressing than he expected to see Strider in captivity. The ropes that bound his hands seemed an insult to Pippin, but he was heartened to see the nobility shine in the Ranger's eyes despite the injuries he wore. The blood on Strider's limping leg was plentiful enough to be from a serious wound that had bled long.

The sight struck a new blow to Pippin's wavering hope: What harms did his friends bear beneath their clothes? What if the pride and defiance they now displayed were for the sake of the orcs who only wished them harm?

Merry startled him by grabbing his arm and jerking his head toward his own guard. Merry's guard had released him to pump his fists in the air and add to the mayhem of cajoling the prisoners. Pippin's guard had taken a few steps forward in his enthusiasm. They were unwatched.

Merry peeked behind him and Pippin's gaze followed. There was land clear of orcs behind them and trees further, darker against the night. Orcs beside them jeered and yelled, pounding on each other in their frenzy.

Pippin looked back to where their friends walked, battered and in bondage. As they grew closer, he longed for a better view of them. Merry had started edging backwards, however, and so Pippin reluctantly mimicked him, moving away from the crowd and finally taking shield under a bush.

After a moment, seeing they were still unnoticed, they turned and scurried a few more feet away, ducking behind a large boulder. Already, they were nearly to the edge of the camp.

Merry moved to continue, but Pippin clutched his sleeve in his bound hands. "Merry—"

"We must keep moving!"

"But they're almost to us!"

"That they are!" He stopped reluctantly. "And what do you suppose will happen when they lay eyes upon us?"

Pippin opened his mouth to answer but decided to rethink it. He came up with the same answer he originally intended, though. "They'll be happy to see us, I suppose. Would it not ease their minds to know we are all right?"

"And when they turn to look at us, so will every orc around us. I figure our guards weren't supposed to bring us up there. One of their bosses sees us and we'll be locked up good or worse." Pippin's mouth opened into a small o.

Merry looked back to the spectacle they'd left behind with a frown. "We should not distract them anyway. To walk among these bloody orcs as they are, they need all their strength."

Pippin didn't quite understand Merry's last words, but could not argue that their presence might bring unwanted attention. With one last glance, he saw their friends' feet trudge by, prodded by a large uruk. "Did they look all right, do you think?" Pippin looked to Merry in his need for reassurance.

Merry started to answer, but then stopped. He looked at his cousin sadly. "I don't know. I think-I think they've been beaten, Pip, from the look of them, but they're well enough to walk, and that is a good sign."

An ache was growing in Pippin's stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. "I would follow, if we could. We should know what this is about."

Merry was quiet for a moment, looking about them. "I'm worried about where all this is headed, too, but if we tarry much longer, we'll lose this chance. We must leave now, Pip."

"But they've forgotten all about us, see. We just need to skirt around the edge of them."

"Pip, we leave now. Follow me."

With that he turned and walked into the arms of an orc.