With Hope and Without Hope

Chapter 7: With Hope and Without Hope

Pippin groaned as he landed hard on the ground, the thud of Merry's landing echoing his own soon after. Pippin's arms were useless weights after clinging to the orc's neck all day. He and his cousin lay still as they watched the orcs stomp away, grumbling about carrying prisoners with two working legs.

They were alone in the deepening dusk. Pippin slowly sat up and looked to the fading light in the west, where the dark of Fangorn Forest loomed. He remembered the warning of Lord Celeborn and shivered. Would the orcs take them in there?

Something tugged on his arms, and then Merry grabbed his hands, still bound together, and began shaking them vigorously, so that his arms swung up and down. "What are you doing?"

"Your arms are numb, aren't they?" Pippin nodded. "Well, this ought to get the blood moving again."

"Right." Pippin allowed Merry to continue until he felt the prickle of returning circulation in his fingers. "Ooh, pin pricks." He shook off Merry's hands. "Now let me return the favor."

After a few minutes, both hobbits were feeling more fully limbed. Pippin was examining the knots on the ropes binding his wrists when Merry squeezed his arm hard. "That's quite enough now, Mer—"

"Shush! Look!"

Pippin followed Merry's look, but saw nothing unusual. That is, he saw a bunch of smelly orcs arguing, as they always seemed to do. Many of the creatures glanced over at them often. The two appeared unguarded, but they were not unnoticed. Even in the dark, the brutes would see every move. Pippin looked back at Merry. "Yes, Merry. We're surrounded by orcs. Your point?"

"That one, over there. Look at what he's holding."

Pippin watched for a creature holding anything of interest. The grey orcs seemed to blend in with the twilight and he could barely distinguish one from another. Many walked at all times with their weapons in hand, as if always ready for battle. More often, it seemed the battle was with another orc. They brandished swords carelessly, threatening each other on a whim. Then Pippin saw something that struck him as vaguely familiar. He frowned as he tried to remember.

"If you don't say that's Gimli's axe, I'll shear the hair off my feet!"

"That's it! I couldn't place it without-" Pippin stopped suddenly and swallowed. "But if he's got Gimli's axe..." He looked at Merry with concern. "That doesn't bode well, does it?"

"No, Pip. It doesn't, not at all." Merry seemed deep in thought as he lowered his voice to a whisper. "He must have continued to fight the orcs, tried to rescue us."

Pippin wondered at Merry's words. "Instead of taking Frodo to ...where they're headed?"

"Maybe. They might have split up. The others would continue on-"

"Maybe they changed plans. Boromir wanted to go-" Pippin's last sight of Boromir loomed before him suddenly, complete with arrows. "Oh."

"Maybe Gimli had to go alone," Merry said quietly. "Although, if an orc is walking around with his axe..." Pressing his lips together firmly, he looked at Pippin. "I've heard they take the weapons of those they've slain."

Pippin stared at his cousin, eyes wide with horror. "Merry! How can you-don't say such a thing!"

"Look around us, Pip. We've got ourselves in a mess. This isn't Old Maggot's Farm. We won't get out of this with just some cleverness. We have to face the truth, no matter how bad it is."

Pippin bit his lip. "Can you not see any hope for them?" He added in a whisper, "Have we no friends left at all?"

"I don't know, Pip. It's hard here, among these beasts, to find such assurance."