The Halfling of the West- Pippin's Journal

Entry 6

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything in the Middle Earth legendarium, all rights go to the Tolkien family.

March 2, 1419

We came to camp on the 26th of February, and Aragorn told us that we must make a decision on our route. Frodo asked for an hour alone to think, and Aragorn granted it. He walked into the woods, alone. Soon we were aware of the absence of Boromir. Sam was suspicious, and soon Boromir walked out from the woods, grim and quiet. Aragorn questioned him, and he replied that he grew angry at Frodo for not wanting to go to Minas Tirith, and the frightened hobbit put on the Ring and escaped. Soon, the entire Fellowship was running to and fro, including Merry and I, looking for Frodo.

Merry and I ran into the forest, calling out for our friend. Soon, our calls were returned by the vile cries of orcs. It wasn't long before we were surrounded. Out of nowhere, Boromir appeared and slew many orcs. They grew afraid of the Man, the son of the Lord of Gondor. He blew the Horn of Gondor, and it rang throughout the forest. But, suddenly, Boromir was pierced by an arrow. Merry and I both wanted to help, but we were in shock. I couldn't move. To our surprise, Boromir stood up and killed four more orcs. Again, he was struck by another arrow, this one in his ribs. He fell to his knees, and then looked at us. He gave a look of compassion, sadness, and anger. His eyes held a flame. He rose up again to slay several more orcs. Before Merry and I could try and help, an arrow came flying into Boromir's torso. This time, he did not rise.

Enraged and shocked, I looked at Merry, and he nodded in approval. We charged the orcs with our swords, only to be overcome by their obvious advantage in strength and size. They lifted us onto their shoulders and ran. The orcs rendezvoused with the others, and soon they were all gone. We heard them shouting curses about Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. They ran on and on, carrying Merry and I, until they made camp. Our hands and feet were bound, and soon I had no choice but to sleep.

That night, I dreamt of Frodo. I saw him standing, and I called to him. But, all I could see around him were orcs. I was frightened, and I awoke with a start. I recalled Boromir's fall. The last I saw of him, he was pulling an arrow out of his own body. I doubt that he survived, and in my heart I grieve heavily for the loss of a friend, though I fear what he was doing in the woods before the orcs attacked. Frodo seemed to have escaped, and no doubt Sam went with him. You'd need a power stronger than the One Ring to break those two apart.

I was laying in that camp with Merry, wallowing in my own sorrow and guilt. I believed that we caused Boromir to fall, and I'm sure Merry felt the same. I wish Gandalf and Elrond never let me come, as I feel like little more than a burden. Merry is at least intelligent and not so clumsy. Either way, there we were, and soon we would have to continue being carried as prisoners.

Apparently, there were various orc-tribes in the company that we were a part of. The main one was the Isengard orcs, the large ones under the command of Saruman the White, the traitor wizard. These orcs were called the "Fighting Uruk-Hai". There was unrest among the tribes and arguments and fights arose among the several days Merry and I were prisoner.

On one day, they halted and threw Merry and I to the ground. They gave us some form of orc-liquor, a warm vile liquid that energized us. Some orcs began to search us, including an Isengard orc named Grishnákh. Merry and I were able to figure out that they thought WE had the Ring, and we decided to play on their ignorance. We told Grishnákh that we will give up nothing until they untied us, but before they could do anything a rider appeared and killed Grishnákh. Horsemen had caught up with the orcs and ambushed them!

Since my hands had been secretly loosed by a dead orc's knife a few days before, I was able to untie my feet and then untie Merry's bindings. We escaped, and as we rested, I dropped the leaf brooch on my cloak from Lórien, so Aragorn and company, who were no doubt hunting our orc captors, would find it and know we were possibly alive. We ran into the woods afterwards.

I dreamt that night that I was calling out to Frodo once again. As we were in the woods, I was glad to finally be able to openly converse with Merry once again. We don't complain much, being the proud hobbits we are, but I do miss relaxing with my friends in the Shire, especially good old Merry Brandybuck. We stopped to drink at the Entwash River, and we munched on some lembas. To our total shock, we were suddenly spoken to in a deep, gruff voice. It came from, get this, a fourteen foot tall tree! No, sorry, not a tree, an Ent. The tree herders of Fangorn Forest.

After explaining our own race and names to the Ent, who calls himself Treebeard, he told us his story. He says he is the oldest creature in Middle-Earth, and that the Ents are now diminishing. The Ent-wives disappeared one day long ago, and so there are no young Ents. Treebeard says that many trees in Fangorn are actually just Ents who have fallen asleep, and they shall awaken once given the proper motivation. He offered to take us to his home, and give us food and drink. Of course, we very politely accepted, especially me, and on the way there he told us more of the wondrous Ents.

Before we arrived, Treebeard told us of his friend, the White Wizard. Of course, he wasn't talking about Saruman, and we had a hard time believing him when he said this, but Gandalf was alive! I don't know how, but Treebeard had just seen him four days prior. He was clothed in white, like Saruman, but he was very much Gandalf. That excited Merry and I, and we were eager to meet him soon.

At Treebeard's home, he gave us Ent-food, a lovely, nourishing liquid that we, admittedly, drank greedily. Treebeard told us about Saruman's evil, and how he has mutated a new breed of orcs (the Uruk-Hai) who do not fear the sun, unlike ordinary orcs. Treebeard agreed that there must be an alliance between Rohan, the Ents, and Aragorn and company against Saruman.

The following day, after a night's rest, Treebeard took us to the Entmoot, a gathering of the Ents. My good friend and I watched as out of the trees, Ents of all shapes and sizes walked up to Treebeard. It seemed to be some kind of dream, really wonderful. It reminded us that nearly all the free races of Middle-Earth have a bone to pick with Sauron and Saruman. The Ents began to talk in their language, which takes a very long time to say anything, but Merry and I knew they were discussing what has, sadly, become necessary: war. The orcs had begun cutting down trees in Fangorn, and it has angered the Ents.

As they spoke, Merry and I pondered on a march on Isengard. It's a land surrounded by towers of rocks: not easily passable for Ents. Little did we know that it would merely be a bump in the road for the wrath of the forest. As we waited, we were invited to the home of a friendly Ent named Bregalad, or Quickbeam. He told us more of the treachery of Saruman and his orcs, and as we discussed this our ears were filled with a mighty roar. A roar of anger. The Ents were calling for war.

At first it seemed like my eyes were playing tricks. But soon it became real to me and Merry both. The trees - they were moving. The entire forest seemed to come alive. As we saw the Ents march our way, Bregalad marched next to Treebeard with us in tow. I pitied the foolish orcs, they've awaken an ancient people from slumber, and they were furious. Treebeard wasn't very optimistic about it, though. He wondered if the Ents were marching to their doom. Merry seemed to silently agree, but I was in so much wonder of the Ents, I believed it impossible. I was, somewhat, right.