Collision Course
Recaptured – Chapter 130

Author: Llinos
Beta: Marigold

Pippin took Merry's face gently in his hands and ran his thumbs down the tear tracks on his dirty white cheeks. He looked quizzically into the blue eyes, holding Merry's attention firmly with his gaze, "What happened my Merr?" he whispered.

They were still sitting on the ground, waiting for Smagnu to come back with a horse, while Bloggin, his long bladed knife poised and arms akimbo, nervously stood guard over them.

Merry tried to look down but Pippin held his head up resolutely with both hands, his gaze fixed determinedly into Merry's glazed and sore eyes. "I knows you dursn't want to tell what go happen at yous, onerly… We does knows some and… and…" Pippin suddenly felt a shivery thrill run through his body. Holding Merry's face in his hands had abruptly brought the memory of how Legolas used to communicate with him when first he lost his speech and hearing. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.

In his first fumbling attempts at mindspeaking, Pippin had felt like an infant learning to totter and being guided along by the firm hand of a grownup, but since then his mental control and powers had grown considerably. Without actually vocalising in their minds, Pippin could feel Merry's distress and shock. He pressed slightly further in, softly touching a thought here, a sensation there.

Merry started to pull away and reached up to take Pippin's hands from his face, but Pippin shook his head and whispered again, "It all righted Mer, We not mindspeakering, trusting me please."

But still Merry resisted. There was nothing pleasant to feel or touch in his mind right now, no recent memories that Pippin needed to see or sense, of that he was quite sure. "No, Pip, p-please don't. I think it w-will hurt you too."

"Please my Mer, knows what We doering, truly We does." Pippin placed a tiny kiss on Merry's nose as he lifted his cousin's face up once more. "We gotted do this, make we boths feel bettrer!"

"B-but Pip…" Merry, feeling the caress of Pippin's mind in his once more, was confused by his cousin's strange speech and accidentally lapsed for a moment, 'we not got go mindtalk at we each othrer.'

'we not'

'is… is mindspeakering!'

'shhhh… hush We mer…'

Pippin stroked Merry's face with his thumbs and simultaneously soothed his mind with lulling, melodious thoughts. They both fell silent as Pippin tenderly coaxed the pictures from Merry's psyche.

Bloggin watched with growing fascination as both hobbits maintained a perfectly still position, the slightly smaller one holding the other's face in his hands and gazing into his eyes as if for all the world he was about to kiss him. But he did not, he merely gazed and gazed. Bloggin's mind growled slightly at the sight and was about to make him say something but seemed to pause as if listening, then merely sighed, leaving Bloggin to observe the odd communion in puzzled silence.

At last Merry's mind relaxed under Pippin's firm insistence and a jumble of terrifying images and discordant screeches and screams tumbled into their joint consciousness, making Pippin gasp and Merry whimper with hurt and memory.

Merry was breathing fast as the mess of noise became a cacophony of pain. Jeering, snarling orcs, men shouting, great trumpeting wails from some impossible animal, his own tiny yelps and squeals, all mixed in with the shocking screech of the wraith's fell beast. The visions gradually coalesced into synchronization with the sounds and Pippin let his senses take over as he and Merry together were swept up in sharp vicious claws.

The bile rose in his mouth as Pippin vomited from the stench and stomach churning terror as they watched Drâmym and Ŭnomer recede until they became specks on the ground below.

Blessed blackness followed, only to be replaced with a worse nightmare. They were in a prison, a large cage, and a great dragon was clawing at them, picking them up and throwing them in the air like a cat plays with its catch. Raucous voices nearby offered no help, but instead were making book on how soon they might be eaten. Pippin could hear the odds being offered.

"We got 6 bets on Claw tearin' it to bits and spittin' the rope out. We got four wagers goin' at 5 to 2 she'll jest keep on playin' wiv it. Two who reckons it'll maim her wiv the sword an' get itself out o' there – I already called theirs bets in, 'cause they've lost – an' there's one 50 to 1 outsider says that she'll try ta screw it – but I fink they're just havin' a laugh!"

Pippin hugged Merry close to his heart and whispered, "not getted We, my Mer. Your Pip in heres now, they not gone go get you. We killded all they dragnons dead and gone firsttime and they try. You Pip here now, not let no things happen at you."

The scene moved and Pippin felt them being lugged about, hauled over orc shoulders and then thrown down again. They were stripped, poked, searched, redressed, clouted, pushed, snarled at, questioned with cuffs and blows. Pippin gasped with surprise, realising even the sensation of taste was shared, as the familiar tang of orc whiskey, heavily laced with poppy juice, was poured down their throats. Even as he squeezed Merry tightly in his mind and patted and soothed the dirty blond curls, Pippin let fall a sigh of pleasure at the poppy taste, especially when Legolas spoke in Merry's mind and said it was all right and not their fault.

Everything became dark and hazy for a long while, the last thing Pippin felt clearly was the faintest scent of Frodo, which seemed to make no sense, until he realised it was coming from his cousin's elven cloak. He felt the mithril scales cling coldly about his body and then whiskey and poppy juice dulled all senses. Even as the pictures blurred into black dreams, Pippin thought it was odd, the orc liquor and opium didn't usually have such a drastic effect on him. "Ahh!" Pippin whispered in Merry's ear, "this be how it makering you go feel, my Mer! It horridible at you. Try feeleded it like your Pippin feels it, which is not so much bad!"

"Meeerrrryy!"

The sound of his own voice in Merry's head was brutal and shocking and Pippin almost lost control for a moment, stunned by the terror they had both felt at that moment, the joint emotions reverberating through the younger hobbit, while Merry, still shocked and unable to deal with the horror, tried to steady himself against the shaken Pippin.

"Merr We knows, we knows, hold on you, hold on your Pip!" Pippin frantically clutched Merry to him, desperately trying to calm the frantic thudding of both their hearts.

Blackness.

Pippin felt himself spinning slowly round and round and up and up. It was unnerving, but not altogether unpleasant, except, Pippin could feel Merry's ragged fear-laced breathing. Not, he suspected, because of the pull on the rope, but for what waited at the other end.

Manhandled, Merry was slung over a wide shoulder and lugged down to the stone room again. Frantic with fear, they listened to the men's voices discussing food, Merry unsure if they were going to feed him or eat him.

Pippin's stomach heaved at the stench of the raw fish that was shoved into Merry's mouth, the taste not improving as his sickly cousin vomited the morsel back up. But the cacophony of swearing and abuse was strangely distant and unimportant and Pippin's eyes opened as he gazed with wonder into Merry's, the tears streaming down both their cheeks.

"Oh m-my Mer!" Pippin sobbed, unsure and uncaring if the stutter was his own or borrowed from his dear cousin, "you w-wanting go d-dead so you can't not say no things and you not go thinkering on youself!" A sob caught in Pippin's throat, "You m-most scrared you n-not say no things of We Fro and he gotted his…"

"Grraaaghhhh! Yarrrggghhh! Cum 'ere yer li'l rats!"

Both hobbits looked up in sudden terror and alarm. Their current predicament, sitting in Mordor on the edge of Sauron's great army, had been pushed aside for a while, but now came back with a vengeance as a thickset orc with 6 foot wide shoulders and half a face, reached out to grab Merry around the neck.

"Aiieeee! Run Pip… don't get… gret bluglushsshh!" Merry's voice was stifled by a great orc hand slammed across his mouth. He tried to kick backwards at his captor as he was lifted off the ground and wriggled frantically, but could not shake off the monster.

"Leave go! Get you pawgs off My Merry!" Pippin clutched desperately at the offending arm, swinging on the appendage as the orc appeared not to even notice him.

Another growl followed swiftly, as a second brute, this one skeletal with long jagged fangs that bit down into its own lower jaw, seized Pippin from behind. "Haw! Got's us two of the them little halfling beggars! Keep still yer louse, dun't wanna damage yer none, gets a better bounty if'n yer's 'hole!"

Pippin let loose a squeal as he was lifted around the waist and flung up into the air, as the orc hoisted him over his shoulder. Whilst still in the air Pippin heard two swift swishing noises, followed by two dull thumps – then a third, followed by his own grunt of pain. His journey into the air had ended painfully as he hit the ground, rather than the orc's shoulder. He had twisted and landed right side up, but his damaged feet were not particularly happy with the arrangement.

"Ow! We feets! Owow!" Pippin howled loudly before realising with a mild shock that the orcs now lay dead, the cause fairly obviously that their bodies had parted company with their heads. Fangs, who had tried to grab him, also had Smagnu's long bladed knife sticking out of his belly. "What happded? Merry?"

Merry was sitting on the ground, his mouth open and his eyes wide. Beside him lay the decapitated orc, its half face, several yards away, was turned grotesquely upwards as the single eye stared unseeingly at the dark sky and its tongue lolled out amidst black bile and green phlegm. "I-I think it was him, the little orc." Merry pointed uncertainly at Bloggin who was standing with Fangs' sword clasped in both hands, looking just as amazed and stunned as Merry.

"I-I's sorry your w-worships," Bloggin realised that both the hobbits were staring at him in disbelief, "did I does somefink wrong? Only me mind said to 'Stab! Slice! Slice! and the next fing I knews – I'd sorta done it."

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Majdi Rann was highly practised in the art of being invisible. Of course, he had no magic about him, being a mere mortal man, but fear and practice had honed his skill to the point where it had become second nature to quietly blend into his surroundings and silently melt away without being noticed.

When his master, the Mouth of Sauron, had ordered the halflings recaptured, Majdi had silently slipped away. His destiny was all at once revealed to him. It was to save the strange little creature, Pip, from his Lord or to die trying. He was probably going to die in the next few days in any case, he might as well attempt to carry out at least one noble deed before then.

Majdi's horse was already saddled, he had ordered it so while the orcs were trying to apportion fault for the loss of the halflings. He knew full well that the blame would eventually rest squarely with him and he had seen his master exact appalling retribution on his servants for far less a crime so there was no sense in waiting to see what his fate would be. Majdi Rann was not typical of the servants of Mordor; along with his sense of self-preservation, he had a modicum of principle.

He rode slowly at first, picking his way through the great army, stopping to demand every so often which way the Uruk and the two little creatures had gone. His first inclination had been to ride straight to Barad-dûr, but then he reasoned why presume that's where they were headed? Nothing had turned out as expected in the past few hours and things seemed to change by the minute. Perhaps the monster of an orc had stolen the halfling away for nefarious purposes of his own. Majdi squirmed as he remembered the fear the small thing had emanated when he had handed him over. How he had tried to cling to Majdi, his previous tormentor, obviously in terror at being given to an even more dreadful captor.

Majdi regretted now every blow he had dealt to the quivering childlike creature. "Don't worry Pip," he muttered as he picked up speed now, "I mean to rescue you and kill that Uruk and take you far, far away from here if it's the last thing I do, which it probably will be."

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"Where did all those bloody orcs get to?" Vimta Ludd was not an even tempered man on the best of days and today was not even approaching good, let alone, best. "Oi you!" He managed to grab the ragged collar of a small scurrying creature with a hairy face and no apparent nose. "Where's General Phunnie?"

"Dunno Chief," The little orc was actually the one responsible for letting Bloggin escape, although he still did not realise his culpability in the action. "Last I sawed he wuz wiv Major Spicku, dey's told me to get sum 'osses fer yers."

"For them!" Vimta shook the little orc, "You need to get horses for them as well."

"Dun't fink so Chief," the orc managed to wriggle free of the man's grip, "dey says dey ain't goin' nowheres. But yer 'osses is right over dere." Pausing only to point briefly at the three saddled horses on the far side of the courtyard, the hairy faced orc scuttled off in the direction of the fell beasts, which he was due to feed, hopefully not with himself, if he got the job done properly.

"Oi you piece of sewage, come here! I'll… I'll…"

"Let it go," Tyza Groon, a recent addition to the Mouth of Sauron's entourage, put his hand on Vimta's arm, a daring manoeuvre at any time, but right now, almost suicidal, but he was new. "We need to find those halfling creatures. Majdi's got the right idea, I imagine he gave chase as soon as he knew they were missing."

"Cretin!" Vimta shook the arm away, "We're meant to kill at least half a dozen of these brutes to keep our Lord appeased!"

"We'll appease him better if we get the halflings," Tyza was getting nervous at the delay, "I'm starting out, with or without you."

Vimta snarled under his breath. He could not really fault Tyza's argument, but noted the dissention for future reference. With Majdi out of the way, he could well be next in line, but if he played his cards right, it would be Tyza who succeeded Majdi Rann and not he. It was not a promotion any one of them looked for. "Majdi is not chasing after the brats, of that I am sure. He is racing to save his own neck."

"How do you know?" Tyza glanced nervously at the fourth servant, a man called Irne Brewe, but he showed no sign of understanding Vimta either, "Why would he run?"

"Because he has been enthralled by that little rat," Vimta spat on the ground, "it is some kind of necromancer, for all it is so small. I heard the orcs talking and they're scared of it. No, he's been taken in by that creature, I saw how he was with it."

"So if we capture them will we be in danger?" Irne was very fearful of magic and wizards, "Maybe we should just say it got away."

"No! We need to overtake both Majdi and the halflings," Vimta was leading the way across the courtyard with his companions hastily in tow. "We need to bring them back and quickly. Before the wretches cause us any more trouble!"

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"What the fug's been going on here?" Smagnu leapt down from his newly acquired black stallion and, ignoring a threatening snort from Shadowfax, grabbed Pippin's arm. "Every time I leave you alone I come back to find a pile of dead orcs!"

"Not too much exaggeriatering Smag!" Pippin tried to wriggle free of the Uruk's grip, but failed, "We not do no things not. You got go ask your small orc there Blog, he go do his own job and We thinks so. Makes orcs leaves We Pippin and My Merry by we-selves thankering him very much."

"Blog?" Smagnu turned to the bemused little orc, who was standing on top of his felled enemies with his arms crossed and a nervous tic in one eye. "You do all this by yourself?"

"Well Cap'n, I had a bit o' help, you know, from me mind like!" Bloggin did not grasp it at all, but hoped his Captain would. Or perhaps those clever little hobbits could understand it. "Beggin' yer pardon Cap'n, but if'n yer can work out what I is a talkin' about, could yer explain it ter me as well?"

Smagnu snarled, his lip curling up over his spiked teeth, "None of it makes sense to me!" He caught hold of Bloggin's arm and leaned in close to hiss a warning, "it's my Little Pip, he's some kind of powerful wizard for all he looks so small – you'd best mind him if you know anything."

"Ha!" Bloggin pulled away from Smagnu with a sudden snort. "Wizard my beard! He's just a very naughty little hobbit! Now let's get on with this wretched business before we all get caught!"

"Bloggin you dursen't even got a beard and… and.." Pippin trailed off, there was something comfortably familiar in the little orc's officious words and, for some reason, Pippin did not want to pursue the matter, worried that he might get the answer he already suspected.

But he could not escape the guilty feeling he had often suffered in the past when caught out doing something he should not have done, especially by a certain wandering wizard. Pippin put his hands on his hips and turned four-square to face Bloggin, "We had to go get My Mer, I already tolded you that!"

"What are you talking about Pip?" Merry looked from the open-mouthed Smagnu to the nervous, albeit belligerent and bossy little Bloggin, to his exasperated cousin.

"Nothing, My Mer," Pippin propelled his cousin towards Smagnu to be lifted up onto Shadowfax, "We onerly thinks that littlel orcses spending too long with We Gandalf! Comling on, we bettrer get gone before that Boggin frits his ownself inside outerwards."

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Gimli watched Legolas with growing curiosity. The elf, although silent and apparently sleeping, was obviously engaged in an entertaining dream. At least, so a casual observer might have supposed, but Gimli, son of Glóin, knew better.

Gandalf, by contrast, lay quite still and, but for an intermittent rise and fall of his chest, appeared lifeless.

Gimli almost chortled out loud as he saw Legolas's mouth quirk up at the sides and at the same time, almost imperceptibly, the elf shook, as if in laughter. But the dwarf held his mirth at bay. It would not be seemly to guffaw in wounded quarters – especially with two such close friends, who were both grievously injured.

Nevertheless, as Legolas twitched another little smile, Gimli reached a tentative hand out and touched the elf's brow. He had been warned by Éowyn not to attempt further mental contact at this time. She, more experienced with that form of communication, had felt an ominous presence searching and thirsting for the blue silver light that Legolas was watching.

But as Gimli brushed his fingers lightly over Legolas's forrid he felt a crackle of energy and small blue sparks danced over his hand. The Dwarf pulled back at once and looked at his fingers in surprise and then back at the Elf. Legolas was frowning now.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Smagnu grinned a large orcish grin. They were making good time and he would have Little Pip and New Little Pip to Orodruin before you could say purple dung! He glanced behind him occasionally to check on his growing number of charges.

Bloggin was not so much seated, as tied to a black gelding, which Smagnu had also acquired on the premise that if they swapped horses halfway through the journey, the lighter orc's mount would be fresher and might stay the course with the great white wizard's horse.

Bloggin knotted his hands in the huge beast's mane and tried to follow his mind's instructions, 'not to look down', although it was tricky and tempting, as that way lay certain death with the chance for a nice rest. 'Don't you dare!' Bloggin's mind warned him, 'we need to keep an eye on those hobbits!"

'plujg klop yorgs?'

'I don't have my eyes with me, so I need to use yours. I am sorry for the intrusion Boggin…'

'bloggin'

'…yes, Bloggin, but you have to be patient!'

'pugsh'

'There's a good orc! Now see if you can turn and have a quick look at those two again.'

'pugsh'

Bloggin turned tentatively round and let his mind take a quick look at the two hobbits, both seated on the great white Kinghorse; the smaller one looking as if he were sitting on a stile.

"I… I missed you so m-much, Pippin." Merry held tightly around Pippin's waist, still luxuriating in every minuscule part of his cousin's being, his scent, his warmth, the sound of his voice… "And… and I thought…I… thought…" Merry gulped a sob away and concentrated on trying to relax into Shadowfax's steady rhythm.

"It all righted now my Merry," Pippin clucked to his cousin gently, "don't be go thinkering so bad."

"N-not bad," Merry voice was muffled with his rapid breathing and his face buried in Pippin's cloak, "I-I was frightened I'd never see you again! N-not seen you… since we were… were in Isengard… and…and…"

"My Merry, stop thinkering too muchly. It make you too much sadness!" In spite of the good pace at which they were moving, Pippin turned around on Shadowfax and smiled encouragingly, "You try make smile faces like We? Go on littlel pracsis?"

"Little Pip! Be Careful!" Smagnu was alarmed at his charge's gravity-defying acrobatics on board the mighty horse. "You could fall, then we'll have to stop to scrape your remains off the rocks."

"We not got to fall off Shadowingfaxes! He not let We!" Pippin had enough experience of riding the Lord of the Mearas to know that much.

Merry managed half a smile, partly at Pippin's banter with the Uruk-hai and his nonchalant approach to riding a horse five times bigger than any hobbit, even Bullroarer, would have attempted. Merry himself was hanging on grimly, not at all confident he would not fall, but reassured by his cousin's ease.

But mostly Merry's tentative smile was because of Pippin's funny speech. "Pip, why are you talking like that?" He sniffed and wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, determined not to cry any more, "You sound… well… strange. What… what's happened to you?"

"Not don't knows," Pippin sounded mournful. He turned back to concentrate on the road and stop Smagnu from nagging him. "We sound not so oddly in We heads, but it comes inside-outwise when We talkering. Gandalf and We Legolas try and try go make We talkering bettrer but We not knowing how it got be done."

"But it… it doesn't mean you're ill does it?" Merry's voice halted anxiously, "There's nothing wrong with you is there Pip?

"Not so much We thinks," Pippin agreed, "It just We do head-talk out of loud, not know how go stop it."

"But you are hurt Pip," Merry frowned as if trying to remember something. "I can feel it and, now you're near, all the hurts are getting stronger. Your foot, well both your feet and your wrist is still sore and… and… oh Pip you're still needing that horrid poppy juice!"

"I-I knows it. We feelings you get hurtering too Mer." Pippin had not even noticed that he occasionally slipped into using "I" when he spoke to Merry. "So lot and lot of hurts on my Mer. You getted big cut on your here," Pippin turned again and gently touched Merry's chest, "and that's not bettrer even littlel bit. You been sick and sick again, I feeled your stumicks doing see-saw upperdowns and… oh but my Mer…" Pippin faced forward and wrapped his arms tightly about himself as if struck with terrible pain, his chin dropped down to his chest and his eyes squeezed shut.

"Pip, don't, please." Merry felt what Pippin was feeling, because it was in his mind too.

Pippin's eyes opened and two fat tears sprang forth and pooled onto his cheeks, followed by two more. "My poor, p-poor M-Merry." Pippin's speech began to hitch now as he felt a sob growing inside. Still he clutched at his belly and began to rock to and fro in spite of the gallop Shadowfax was maintaining. "You been too much saderness, you got be dying and not seeing Your-My Pippin Me-We agains never!"

Merry's face crumpled once more as his own sadness echoed back to him from Pippin, the reverberations of his despair and anguish swelling again now with the tears that rivered down his cheeks. "Pip, I'm sorry, please don't cry, please, I'm sorry. It's just I thought I would die and not get the chance to say goodbye or to see you again. I couldn't bear it, but I knew I had to die and that was the hardest part – dying alone."

"We know – We –I knows," Pippin bit his lip to stop the tears. "We not can't do that neither and I wantings to go killded We too just so We-I go with my Mer…" Pippin's mind spun around with the terrible sensations that had washed into his consciousness suddenly from Merry. He was almost overwhelmed with a sickening fright of Merry not only knowing he had to die but to die all alone.

"Pip, I'm glad you didn't!" Merry had not wanted Pippin to share his grief, it was painful enough to bear himself. He wrapped his arms around his worried cousin, just as he had done many times before when Pippin was little and needed comforting, just as he wished someone would have done to him when he was at his darkest moment, "You mustn't try to kill yourself if something happens to me. Promise you won't."

"We can't not…" Pippin sniffed loudly, still holding back tears. "We gone to do it, incepting, We Pippin got go do some things improtrant for Gandalf and Strider…" Pippin leaned his head back to Merry's face and whispered, his voice a conspiratorial murmur so that the two orcs would not hear, "now you got to go come and helping We?" Pippin caught Merry's hand in his, "We got put We Ring in the bonfire and We not knowering if my Merry bettrer enuff to go helps We, but We dursent leaves you on you owns not never agains."

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Discord! There was a cacophony of dissonance and friction that grated upon His being and abraded His thoughts until the steel like clarity began to dissipate from His purpose.

The Battle had ceased, momentarily He knew, but the pause was taking longer than He had planned. He would compel the conflict to continue, His forces would easily overcome His enemy, but why were they waiting? They had the Ring, why did they not wield It?

The son of Isildur knew! He knew that even with his foe's own precious weapon, he could not overcome the mighty Dark Lord Sauron. But how resoundingly triumphant would His final victory be, if He should possess It again.

And when the fighting had stopped and the pressure in His mind, the force that He exerted to bring His many troops under His banner and instil in them the determination to kill and conquer, when that lessened, He heard It.

The Ring of Power. His Ring, that which He had sought endlessly, It was drawing near. But there was a fault! Something about It was discordant and painful to hear. It was fighting – fighting to survive!

His thoughts cast about, looking for It, seeking It. But, although He could catch the echoes of It, the location was indistinct. It was as though It were broken and in two places at once!

Nothing! Nothing could have brought that about. The Ring was indivisible, only the destruction of It could cause this friction.

And yet It was whole. It was not destroyed. But still there was the separation.

The Dark Mind became rapt and stabbed out thick tentacles of black interrogation, pressing into many unwary consciousnesses at once, leaving many minds disorientated and bodies sick, but still It eluded Him.

Suddenly – a path! It was not the right colour, argent with a tinge of blue, but it was aware! Aware of The Ring! He followed.

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Éowyn gasped. As she and Faramir entered the tent where Gandalf and Legolas lay, she saw the sparks of blue and silver flash from Legolas, to arc across Gimli's hand and lie shimmering for long seconds in his beard.

"What are you doing?" Without waiting for an answer, Éowyn pulled Gimli's hand away from the prone elf and batted at the Dwarf's long beard, as the still present blue sparks looked as if they might ignite at any moment and a Dwarf with a burning beard was the last thing they needed right now. "Stallion's stirrups! Gimli," Éowyn swore in exasperation, "we agreed not to mindspeak with Legolas again, remember?"

Faramir's eyebrows rose as the expletive left Éowyn's sweet rosebud lips. Being well-versed himself in Rohirric profanity, it did not totally surprise him to hear stable-talk from a maiden brought up to ride and fight as fiercely as any man, although he was relieved that she used the slightly demure expression and not the more bawdy 'stallion's stalk' or even more colourful, if bewildering, 'son of a gelding's arse'.

"Faramir!" Éowyn waved her hand in front of his face, "are you with us? That's the third time I've asked you!"

"What? I'm so sorry!" Faramir had a tendency to wander off into his thoughts whenever Éowyn was around.

"Could you get Aragorn or Dysgwr? One of them should look at Legolas urgently." Éowyn was anxious not to touch the Elf in case it caused the same effect as it had on Gimli.

"All I did was touch him slightly," Gimli insisted, "I was truly not attempting to make contact. I'd not dare try such a thing on my own, it's more daunting than walking the Paths of the Dead – a Dwarf does not go willingly into an Elf's mind!"

"But do you think he is in danger?" Éowyn was torn by the prospect. "Perhaps he needs help in his mind. Maybe we should look and see if all is well."

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"Faster, faster!" Frodo was running frantically, but he knew that Gollum was outstripping him. He was tired beyond reason, his feet were calloused and raw and his hands torn and bleeding where he had clutched at and clambered over jagged rocks. "Come on Sam, I can't wait for you."

"This is barmy Mr Frodo!" Sam called out between gasping breaths. He could actually have overtaken his Master, but with what purpose? Should he tackle and bring him to the ground and restrain him? Surely it was not his place to decide that. On the other hand, Frodo was acting more strangely than he had ever seen him behave, either on the Quest or before.

Frodo felt his heart racing faster than his feet. His vision was blurred and he could see double, not in the usual way but, upon his own view of the surroundings, was imprinted a second image and Frodo knew that he was seeing everything Gollum could see. It was disorientating as Frodo hardly knew which paths he was treading on and which were ahead of him. If he looked down at his feet, he saw two furry hobbit feet and an ugly pair of overlarge naked feet, flapping along as if they were his own.

Frodo tripped and fell, but staggered up again and stumbled on. He decided not to look at his feet any more as it really was not helping. "Come on Sam! Keep up!"

Sam felt inclined to stand his ground but, on the other hand, had not Mr Frodo himself told Sam to stop him from doing anything to harm Pippin? Well one moment he did and then he seemed to change his mind again. One thing Sam knew for certain; that there Ring was a fickle foe.

"We'll never catch him, not if we run for a hundred years… and Mr Frodo…" Sam managed to get the other hobbit's attention for a moment. "Aren't we going the wrong way? I mean, we're supposed to be going to that Mount Doom place, and now we're going in the other direction."

"No no! This is right!" Frodo's voice grew strong with endorphins, his pain from thirst, hunger and frantic run abating with the excitement, "I see him! We're nearly there!"

"Who Mr Frodo?" Sam could see no one, even though he strained his eyes in the direction Frodo pointed. "I can't see no one and my eyes are pretty good or so I always thought!"

"Pippin! It's him!" Frodo stopped dead in his tracks and spun round to grab Sam by the wrist, his blue eyes wide with alarm. "I think I see him, or maybe it's not me? I'm not sure any more. Sam it's Gollum! I think he sees Pippin. Quickly we must get there too, before he does anything."

"What's he about to do?" Sam looked all about trying to see what Frodo was focussed on, but there was nothing. But his eyes gazed steadfastly just past Sam's shoulder and Samwise could tell his master was in a panic over whatever he thought he was seeing. "Is he going to ambush Pippin?"

"No, yes! I don't know, maybe. He wants the Ring – my Ring! The One that Pippin is carrying – The Pippin!"

"The what?" Sam screwed his nose up and shook his head in total bafflement. What was Frodo talking about?

"Yesss, we sees him we does! The Pippin," Frodo made a wringing motion with his hands, "We got to take It offs The Pippin's neck – even if we has to breaks it first!"

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Vimta Ludd kicked his horse hard in the sides, his spurred boots drawing blood from the hard-pressed animal. "Faster, you fools, Majdi is a good quarter hour ride ahead of us."

"How far ahead do you think the halflings are?" Tyza Groon had a lesser steed than Vimta and was pushed to keep up. "I thought we were chasing them, not Majdi."

"We all have the same goal you idiot!" Vimta had no more patience than his Master, "The halflings are the prize and Majdi knows that!" He paused to catch breath even as his horse pushed onwards, the wind catching his words and making Tyza strain to hear. "Even if he is not fleeing from us, he is bent upon stealing the credit for their return."

"You mean to kill him, don't you?" Tyza was often slow at getting the point but even he found it difficult to miss his superior's intent. The snarl and the sneer in his voice were good clues, that and the mighty crossbow, loaded and primed, that the man carried across his lap. "Will one bolt be enough?"

"No you idiot!" Vimta had formed his plan even as they left the compound, but Tyza and Irne only needed to know the rest of it now. "We have to stop Majdi and those halfling brats once and for all. You've seen the trouble they could cause us – look at Majdi!"

"You mean to kill the halflings then?" Tyza's mouth fell open and, as they were riding quite fast, he swallowed two flies before he closed it again.

"No," Vimta shouted back, "I'm going to kill Majdi Rann." Vimta turned his attention back to the road and the chase, "You're going to kill the halflings."

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Majdi Rann began to slow down. His horse was tiring and he knew that soon he would catch up with the Uruk Captain and the halflings and did not want to come upon them unawares.

They had stopped for some reason just before the end of the great encampment of armies, probably, Majdi suspected, for the Uruk to secure his prisoners better or take sustenance. After that he had lost the trail for a while, but he knew the Uruk had left with the halflings on a horse and there was only one road to take to Barad-dûr or anywhere else for that matter. So unless he had doubled back and gone through the Black Gate, which was not likely, given the hostile army that waited there, he must still be ahead of him.

Eventually Majdi rediscovered the trail and the pace increased again. Now the man calculated, by the remaining light and the speed of his own mount, that he had covered many miles and soon they must be in sight.

Hopefully they would rest again and he would be able to kill the Uruk and take the halflings without too much trouble. What he was to do then Majdi was not sure, but he had a feeling that now was not the time for careful planning. He was doing, for once in his life, what felt right and that would have to be enough.

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"Masster nooo!" Gollum was running again, hand over foot, picking his way nimbly over the rocks and crags. "Stopses your chassing Masster! Sméagol will find The Pippin!"

Gollum paused for a moment and sniffed the air. The atmosphere was tainted with the odour of many orcs and swathe upon swathe of unwashed men and beasts. But even in the midst of the almost overwhelming pungency of different species and their bacteria, one smell wove its path to Gollum's prying nostrils. "The Pippin! And… and he's brought the other one – the little blind hobbit. She didn't eats him at all! Oh whass to do? What's iss we going to do? Can we kills them both? Maybe we needs Masster after all!"

Teetering back and forth as he shifted his slight weight from hand to foot and back again, Gollum was wracked with indecision. "Got to get the Precious! Need to kill The Pippin dead, but the other little blind hobbit, can we kill him too, Precious?" His breathing increased until he was panting like a dog, his hands pawed at his own face in desperate indecision.

"Oh but Masster comes!" Gollum's great mouth creased into a maniacal grin, "Masster's going to kill The Pippin! We can sees in his head!" For a moment he sank down onto the ground again, his head shaking from side to side in wonder, "We never seen Masster so angry! Soo, so angry."

Then Gollum leapt into the air once more and began capering gleefully forward, no longer being stealthy but crying out in sheer delight, "Masster's going to kill The Pippin and Sméagol's going to kill the blind hobbit and Masster and Sméagol's are going to get the Precious! We are one now, Sméagol and Masster and we will have each our halve of the Precious and we will be one together forever and ever! Masster and Sméagol, Sméagol and Master and the Precious!"

"Quietly now…" Sensing he was reaching his goal, Gollum sank back down on to all fours, "We mustn't frit The Pippin." Clambering spider like over a large boulder, Gollum drooled as he realised he had finally found who he was looking for. "There they are – soo innocent – the little hobbitses. They think they iss so clever. But they don't know about Sméagol and Masster. We just wait here for a few minutes and wait and wait. Oh we knows how to be patient, Sméagol waited many, many years for The Precious. Not long now." He closed his eyes but opened them again with a loud hiss."

"Ssstupid fat hobbit!" Looking through Frodo's eyes, Gollum had seen Sam's angry face staring back at him. "Leave Masster alone! He's got to kill The Pippin."

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"Please Mr Smagnu," Merry looked up from where he was crouching on all fours having just thrown up again. He had tried to eat a little of the food Smagnu had brought, but his stomach was still in no fit state to deal with anything, let alone one of Bloggin's concoctions. "I really need to sit a bit longer – or just leave me here. I can't ride any more."

"No can't not leavering you anerywheres my Mer!" Pippin patted his cousin on the back hoping that might help him to stop retching, although he had no particular basis for the cure, just a vague recollection that was what you did to vomiting babies.

"But your wizard said to go straight there!" Smagnu was getting anxious at the delay. The sooner this whole expedition was over, the better as far as he was concerned. He had not actually expected to make it this far and didn't expect his luck to hold much longer. "We should get on. How about if I carry New Little Pip on my horse, then he won't jostle so much."

Bloggin said nothing but paced up and down the perimeter of their impromptu camp, Smagnu's blade held defensively in his paw and his eye tic growing more pronounced by the second.

"Listern my Smag," Pippin took the great beast's mighty fist and looked plaintively up into his frowning eyes, "My Mer not got go nowhere till his stummerick… stumm… oh… he's belly comes with he. And We Pippin not go nowhere less My Mer coming too as well. We can see big fire place now, so let just sit and waits We till got no more sick left."

"Just a short rest then." Smagnu grunted and pulling his hand away went the other side of a large rock and nosily relieved himself.

Bloggin went to sit down, but his mind suddenly booted him in the backside and he jumped to his feet once more. "Come on Mr Pip Your Worship Sir. My mind is shouting at me to get on wiv it. It saying we got to go now!"

"Oh yes!" Pippin looked suspiciously at the earnest little orc, "and what othrer ordres your bossiness mind go get We today?"

"If you forgiving me Sir, Mr Pip Sir, it says you got to leave your Mery-ay-doc here…" Bloggin stumbled over the unusual name, "…to gets better on himself and get on with what you meant to do."

"Reallery? Well you go tell your Mister Mind-We-Bus-y-ness Gandalf that We not go leave We Mery-ay-doc nowheres – Ever!"

Bloggin reached forward, his eye twitching and his other hand trying to stop himself, and touched Pippin on the head, ruffling his curls gently in a very familiar manner, "Peregrin Took – you know I would not ask this of you if it were not vital – you have to leave Meriadoc and carry on. The whole of Middle-earth is at stake."

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To Be Continued

(very soon – promsis!)

Author Note: I know I promised quicker updates and I regret that events in my life prevented that. As far as I know I should be able to continue now without too much delay. Please bear with me and I'll try to be prompt in future.

Llinos

PS: Reviews help! (snerk)

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Q&A (although more properly called Snips and Snaps – your snips and my snaps)

The Lauderdale: but the image that stuck with me was this tiny little Istari-possessed snaga-Orc suddenly roaring, "Peregrin Took! What did I tell you?"

Llinos: Poor Bloggin. And things are not improving for him either.
NekoHitori: first off, I would like to say congratulations on Marigold getting married.
Llinos: That makes me feel bad! She's just coming up to her first Wedding Anniversary!
NekoHitori: love how Hobbits became the most feared species in Middle Earth.
Llinos: Which is only right and proper after all!

harrowcat: You have a very twisted mind - that is compliment by the way!
Llinos: Oh dear - please don't ever insult me then:D

poppymuddyfoot: Gandalf hiding inside Bloggin's mind snip And he thought it was difficult to communicate with Pippin!
Llinos: But who would have guessed that Gandalf spoke fluent mindorc! It's a bit mean of us not to give the full translation – but what ya gonna do?

Sam camilliatook YAY! More Recap! And yet another late review from me
Llinos: Sigh – well we've all been busy!
Sam camilliatook: Gandalf and Bloggin's mindspeak together is the funniest thing.
Llinos: Alas, poor Bloggin does not think so! You shouldn't laugh at him – he's sensitive. Well as sensitive as a small smelly orc can be.

Elentari: Oh no! I'm scared of what Frodo might do to Pippin! Please no! "cringes in a corner"
Llinos: Well don't come out of the corner yet!
Elentari: Keep on posting and I'll review every chapter:)
Llinos: Fair enough!

Marigold: snips v. long review
Llinos: Exactly!

Analey: Updates on this story are almost like mini holidays!
Llinos: In that they happen about once a year? "embarrassed blush"

lovethosehobbits: Don't worry about the length of time between each chapter (I too have RL issues that seem to always slow me down and understand fully)
Llinos: Now don't encourage me!

Arte Artunature: Lovely surprise to be able to read the new chapter before I leave for spring break.
Llinos: Now you can again
Arte Artunature: Hobbits are turning out to be more of a secret weapon than Gandalf first expected them to be, aren't they?
Llinos: Oh I'm sure he always knew! Gandalf is trickier than he looks!
Arte Artunature: Yes, a cookie if you update soon!
Llinos: Cookie modem on standby. Oh wait, it wasn't really soon, now was it.

sarahsweeties: didnt have much of eowyn/faramir in this chappie
Llinos: No, it's not their story, but they keep sticking their noses over the parapet!
sarahsweeties: …then faramir would get super-jealous! muahaahahaha fun fun fun
Llinos: That's just mean! Still… "wanders off thinking about it"

Blossom: Going to check out the Eastgaters now...ah, yes, Merry's hurt in that too...any chance of some merry Merry:)
Llinos: Ahem, yes. "sidles red-faced towards virtual door – muttering – I blame Marigold!"

auntiemeesh: I've started planning that Hawaiian vacation for them, they're going to need it by the time this is all over.
Llinos: Are you sure that's a good idea? Have you seen LOST!

bohemian sheep: You've got me hooked. Please update soon. But not too soon - I've got to re-read it, remember ;) DA IAWN!
Llinos: Was that enough time for you? "Shakes head in Cymraeg, 'Mae ddrwg gen i – rhy hir! – mwyfwy, cyn bo hir'"

Lindelea: snork!
Llinos: Please try not to splutter on the story.
Lindelea: How is it you can make me feel sorry for a little orc?
Llinos: It's Magnic!
Lindelea: I do hope you can save Majdi.
Llinos: I'm not omnipotent! That's Pip! Although He tells me He's Omnipipitent!
Lindelea: Chuckling at your practical Phunnie. He lives up to his name, doesn't he?
Llinos: No – he's a right bastard when you get to know him!

Pip4: Um, Frodo's starting to scare me a little bit, and that usually doesn't happen.
Llinos: Well you must be very brave then – he scares the bejeasus out of me!

Latanya Kassidy: Poor Pip doesn't know that his reunion with Frodo will not be so sweet!
Llinos: Ah but nobody knows that yet! The past is set in stone, the future is unwritten! Ahem – well in Recaptured's case it is – unwritten I mean.

No longer in service: So much was covered yet I wish it was longer.
Llinos: When I looked at your name, I thought perhaps you'd got tired of waiting and gone! I hope not. Some complain it's too long and some that it's too short, I hope this is a happy compromise. At least I'll try not to make you wait so long for an update.

Breon Briarwood: happy dance Another chapter! After, um, too many chapters to count, all I can say is "Yay! Another chapter!"
Llinos: Well at least you seem happy! Very happy. You haven't been in the poppyjuice I hope. I mean, dancing, can't count, doesn't know what to say – all the symptoms. :D