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goldenponcho · 5 years ago

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Unlikely Friends

Merry And Pippin meet a very unusual new friend in Fangorn Forest, and Pippin is developing the strangest crush.

Pippin/OC

The cool night air wafted through the branches of the sleeping trees, swirling gently along the forest floor and through the curly locks of the two tiny hobbits who slumbered in a cradle of roots and moss. It had seemed ages since Merry and Pippin had slept so soundly. Trying to sleep when hanging from the back of a galloping Uruk was a chore more than anything, and the poor hobbits’ aching arms and wrists finally rested lax agains the roots hugging their sleeping forms.

But a pointed ear caught the rustling of nearby foliage, and Peregrin Took’s eyes flashed open. As the haze of sleep left him, he registered where he was, and slowly, he made out the shuffling and hushed voices only yards away from the small clearing they lie in.

“Merry,” he whispered to his friend, who dozed in a bed of roots next to him. “Merry!” He prodded at the other hobbit’s side, who recoiled with an irritated groan.

“What is it, Pip?” he mumbled blearily without opening his eyes.

“Wake up! There’s somethin’ in the woods!”

Meriadoc Brandybuck rolled over, rubbing the back of a hand over closed eyes, and propped himself lazily on an elbow to listen. Slowly, his brows knit together, and he opened his eyes, now wide awake as well.

“More than one somethin’s…”

With the snapping of twigs and rattling of leaves underfoot, the murmuring drew closer.

Merry tugged Pippin’s sleeve as he stood, “Get up! We’ve got to hide! Now!”

The two halflings hurried quietly to huddle behind a large elm tree on the opposite side from the direction the voices came from.

“Right about now, I’m missin’ dwarf especially.” The voice was nasally and higher pitched, “Now that’s red meat if I’ve ever tasted it! Nicely marbled too. You ever ‘ad dwarf, Traz?”

The other approacher gave a steady sigh, “Can’t say I’ve partaken.” This voice was deeper than the first but clearly female, though with a subtly gruff edge.

“Closest I can compare it to is a nice hearty mutton. Plenty chewy!”

Pippin’s breath caught in his throat. Orcs! Not now! Not again!

“If you don’t stop talkin’ about food, we’ll see how chewy you are…”

The hobbit realized then that he had never seen a female orc before, and even through his fear, he felt the urge to take a peek. And that’s what he did. Slowly, carful as to not scrape his clothing against the tree bark, he moved to have a look around the tree. He could make out the silhouettes of one smaller orc and another one about the size of a fully grown man.

“I bet you’d like to see how chewy I am…”

He was almost certain the male voice had come from the smaller one. That larger one had to be…uruk-hai, were they called? He squinted to make out her features. It was impossible to decipher much other than the thick furs that outlined her form against the night sky. Just as he caught himself looking a bit too long, a twig snapped under his heel.

“Pippin!” Merry exclaimed silently and caught his cousin’s cloak by the collar to steady him and pull him back behind the tree. They weren’t left long to wonder if the pair had heard him.

“We know you’re there…” the female orc warned, her tone dry and unshaken.

The frightened hobbits heard them step closer alongside their tree, and Merry grabbed Pippin’s arm and pulled him to sneak around the opposite side. The two thought for a moment they might be able to slip away undetected, but Pippin turned to be met with eyes peering down upon him, glowing as they reflected the blue moonlight.

He gave a shriek, alerting Merry to the danger, and they shot in the opposite direction, only to be set upon by the smaller orc, who still practically towered over them. They narrowly dodged the creature, Pippin jabbing an elbow in it’s side for good measure.

“Oi!” the orc hissed, “That weren’t called for!”

“Stop!” the other commanded, but the hobbits ran as fast as their short legs could carry them.

And that’s when Merry was snatched into the air by the net he had stepped into just ahead of Pippin.

The other halfling stopped in his tracks, “Merry!!”

“Go, Pip! I’ll be fine!!” he reached for his sword and struggled to free it.

“I’m not leaving you, Merry!” He froze as he heard heavy footfalls sprint to stop behind him, and he turned on his heel, and unsheathed his own sword.

“Don’t you touch him!” Pippin’s voice shook more than he would have liked.

“Woah! We’re not here to hurt you!” the female orc still remained featureless under the cloak of night, “Calm down and don’t move another inch.”

She stepped gingerly forward, and Pippin held out his sword defensively, “I’m warning you! I’ve had training!”

“Heeyyy…I believe you, but there’s no need for any of that.”

There was a rustling behind him, and Pippin whirled around and lashed out at the other orc behind him with his sword, “I said get AWAY from him!!”

“No! No! Don’t run that-“ a loud metallic snap and a searing pain in his ankle sent the poor hobbit toppling, and he cried out in pain, his vision a swirl of darkness. He sobbed as he grabbed at his foot to find it caught in a metal vice.

He saw the glowing eyes approaching closer again, “That’s what I was trying to tell you…”

“Get away from him!! You won’t eat my friend!!” He struck out blindly with his sword, and he heard it make contact as the orc snarled in pain.

“Hey!! Would you LISTEN to me! I’m trying to help you!”

“Help me?!” he cringed at the throbbing in his leg, “You’re an orc!”

“Don’t trust her, Pippin!” Merry called, through pants as he attempted to saw through the thick netting with his blade.

“I am…” she kneeled slowly to come closer to eye level with him, “And I’m here to help you. You HAVE to trust me.”

The apparent gentleness in her voice took him aback, and his sword wavered for a moment before he caught himself and directed it firmly towards her, “You swear on your life?! You swear on…on…” he fumbled for something an orc could be held accountable to, “…on your lord, Sauron, that you won’t harm us?”

“If it makes you feel better…” he could see well enough to make out her raise her right hand and put the other over her chest, “I swear on the MAGNIFICENT and ALMIGHTY Lord Sauron!”

“Be serious, now!”

She chuckled, “I’m sorry! I’m not exactly a huge Sauron fanatic. May I disarm that bear trap on your leg, now? I believe it was hurting you.”

His brow furrowed as he tried to read the ghostly eyes before him, until he finally nodded into the darkness, swallowing hard, “Fine.”

He heard Merry give a sound of disappointment and as the lady orc scooted toward Pippin, she nodded to her companion, “Scraw, could you CAREFULLY get our other friend out of that net, PLEASE?”

Though it was clearly said in half jest, Pippin found it strange to hear an orc utter the word “please”. She only had time to remove what seemed to be a lantern from her side when a chop, followed by Merry’s scream and collision with the ground echoed through the forest.

“That’s why I specified CAREFULLY!” she rolled her eyes muttering under her breath, “... pa-gog aukuk...”

“Sorry!” Scraw shrugged, then hoisted the freed hobbit roughly to his feet, dusting his cloak off for him.

Merry backed away, “Yes, yes! I’m fine! Thank you!”

“I’m going to remove my scythe from my belt so I can light this tinderbox,” she waved the little round tin toward Pippin, “Is that alright?”

He calmed his unsteady breath at the word “scythe” and nodded. She sat the opened tin on the ground, then slowly removing said short handled scythe, she struck the flint along the side of the blade. The box smoked, and Pippin could barely see only hints of her face as she blew on the glowing tinder. Then, the lantern was lit and with a flutter of flame, the young female orc’s face was finally illumined.

Pippin was surprised at what he saw. Her features had a certain harshness to them, but it was perhaps only because her dramatically arched brows were knitted in concentration. She wasn’t nearly so grotesque as the creatures they had escaped from the night before. She had dark eyes, he thought black, even, under even blacker bushy hair that blended seamlessly into the furs on her shoulders and back. Her nose was broad and almost flat, and full lips partially hid the large fangs in her slightly open mouth. Teeth were normally the defining feature of most orcs, but when her mouth closed completely, they were almost entirely hidden. More than anything, she reminded Pippin of a large cat, like the ones he had seen in pictures from the old books Bilbo Baggins owned, calmly basking in the afternoon sun.

Pippin was so lost in thought that he barely registered her say “Hold your breath,” before she had firmly gripped either jaw of the trap and forced them open. He hissed with a sharp inhale as his ankle seared, then dulled to a throbbing ache.

“Is it broken?!” Merry approached his friend.

“Probably snapped the little thing right in two,” Scraw, approaching close behind, nodded with a snort and a smirk in his voice, “Might ‘ave teh amputate, eh, Trazna?”

“Stop trying to scare them, pinhead!” Trazna berated her less than helpful companion, then nodded to Pippin, “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.” And before Pippin could nod his consent, the entire forest seemed to rustle and the THUMP THUMP THUMP of something massive fast approached them.

Trazna gasped as she turned in time to see the massive ent lunge for her, and all Merry and Pippin had time to do was shriek “Treebeard!!” and “Treebeard! NO!!” She let out a startled yelp that transitioned into an animalistic growl as Treebeard grabbed her by the leg and hoisted her up to dangle in front of his large, barked face.

“Orc!” his mighty voice rumbled, “You dare to prey on MY hobbits?!”

Trazna huffed, “I wasn’t preying on anything! YOUR hobbit is injured!”

“By your doing, I see!” Treebeard arched a craggy brow.

“She did help us, Treebeard,” Pippin urged his large friend, whose skeptical glare flashed between the two.

“We didn’t know anyone else was here.” Trazna assured, “We set the traps to catch deer and rabbits, not people.”

“And you would NEVER satisfy your hunger with a couple of tender young halflings such as these?”

It was now that Trazna noted that Scraw was nowhere to be seen. Incompetent coward... “It might surprise you, but I don’t make it a habit of eating things that can talk to me.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“She’s telling the truth! Right, Merry?”

Merry glanced to Pippin, a bit more skeptical than his cousin, but he nodded, “He’s right, Treebeard. We thought they were after us, but they were trying to warn us about the traps.”

“TRAPS?! More than one?!” Treebeard glared toward the captive lady orc.

“There are five others,” Trazna confessed, “We can remove them if it pleases you. But now, I need to tend to your friend’s wound, or it’ll fester. And I’d really prefer to be right side up again; the blood’s pooling into my head.”

“She would have taken us by now if she had wanted us,” Pippin winced as his injured ankle brushed the ground, “And the whole festering wound thing sounds even less pleasant than being eaten…”

“If I try anything, you have every right to stomp me into the ground.”

Treebeard creaked with a long grumble, seeming to be on the border of being convinced, then he exhaled slowly, rattling his own leaves as well as the ones surrounding them, and he dropped her none too gently to the ground.

She landed on her back not far from Merry with an “oof!”. “Thanks…” she mumbled not exactly in appreciation, untangling herself from the long furs now flopped over her head. Then, rubbing her side, she got to her feet to come and kneel next to Pippin.

“I’m gonna pick you up, now. Alright?”

Pippin’s stomach leapt into his throat, but he nodded, with a small “yes”.

Trazna lifted the halfling into her arms with no effort, treating his sore foot as tenderly as a bird’s broken wing. Those dark eyes glanced down kindly into his, the moon only reflecting off them slightly, “Pippin, wasn’t it?”

He felt his cheek brush lightly against the soft fur of her cowl, and he thanked the gods she couldn’t see the color in them in the darkness, “Yes! Uh…Peregrin Took…but most call me Pippin.” He had realized just as he had begun speaking that she actually might be able to see him growing red in the dark. Orcs were, after all, known for being active in very low light.

“Traznarad,” she stopped in front of a tree, “You can call me Trazna.” She knelt to lie him delicately in a mossy patch between the roots, placing the lantern next to them, then went to take hold of his foot, “I’ll be gentle, but tell me if this hurts.” She slowly began rotating his ankle, and he inhaled lightly.

“That hurt?”

He nodded, “A little…”

“Is it broken?” Merry repeated his earlier question, “Honestly, Pippin, if you broke it, I think we might really be up the creek…”

The younger hobbit scowled, “I didn’t do it on PURPOSE, Merry!”

Trazna shook her head, “I don’t think it’s broken. But you should stay off it for a few days,” she nodded toward Treebeard, “I’m assuming your friend can help you with that.”

She turned to Merry, who she came nearly eye level with even in her crouched position, “Do you know what an athelas plant looks like, Merry?”

He nodded, “Kingsfoil! I’ll find some!”

“That way,” she pointed behind him, “There are no traps that way.”

Merry quickly took to the woods behind him, leaving her and Treebeard to look after Pippin. “Yeah, it’s definitely not broken,” she felt around his ankle, careful not to irritate the exposed wounds on either side, “You’d definitely be carryin’ on a lot more if it was,” here eyes met his, “You have some impressively strong bones.”

The halfling chuckled lightly, “Well…hobbits are surprisingly sturdy creatures, you know.”

She smirked as the little hobbit puffed out his chest as best as he could in his horizontal position, “Are they really? I hadn’t met one before, to be honest.”

“Oh?! Well, then, might I say that I’m happy to be the first,” he grinned, “And I’m sure Merry is happy to be the second.” Trazna laughed, baring fangs that didn’t seem quite so terrifying as before.

Trazna procured a small stone basin, filling it with a bit of water and looked up to address Treebeard looming above them, “With your permission, Treebeard, I’ll need to build a small fire to boil this water.”

Concern crossed the ent’s jagged features, “Always burning. Always flaming!” he heaved a rumbling sigh, “But what must be done…must be done.”

She nodded with a look of reassurance, “I’ll put it out like a responsible camper.”

As she set the basin over the fire she had made, Merry sprang forth from the brush, a fistful of kingsfoil in each hand, “We won’t want for kingsfoil here! The underbrush is loaded with it!”

“Fantastic!” Trazna motioned to the slightly bubbling water, “Toss it there.” As Merry followed her instruction, she settled to rest on her haunches to wait.

Pippin watched in fascination as the sweet smell of the athelas permeated the air and put him at ease, “We’ve only met one other person who knew about kingsfoil other than the elves.”

Trazna nodded, “Well…people tend to forget that orcs were once elves,” she retrieved two bottles, one thin and empty, the other larger and full of an amber liquid. She handed them to Merry, “Fill this halfway, if you would, Merry.”

Merry did again as he was bid, and Pippin’s smile wavered, “So then...those stories...what Morgoth did to the elves...it’s all true.”

The water had boiled and fizzled out quickly only to leave behind the mushy leaves, which she scooped out and handed toward Merry, “It’s what is widely believed. And it certainly lines up with the...circumstances I’ve witnessed,” Merry gave a look of sadness as well as she portioned some of the plant into the vial with quick instruction to shake the corked concoction, and Trazna paused in realization of how much she had dampened the conversation. She smiled reassuringly, “But it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done, and besides...” she smirked between the two, “I can catch twenty rabbits with my teeth in the time it takes an elf with his fancy little bow and arrow to shoot one.”

Pippin laughed, and Merry looked slightly startled before laughing as well.

“How’s this?” Merry held up the now viscous mixture.

“Perfect!” Trazna took it shaking it once more for good measure, then uncorked it, “One thing elves DON’T know, is that a mixture of pine sap, olive oil, and beeswax can act as an antiseptic and speeds the healing process even more.”

“Oh, grand!” Pippin leaned to watch as she made ready to apply the mixture, “What’s “antiseptic”?”

Merry rolled his eyes at the simplicity of his friend and ruffled his curly hair playfully as he sat next to him, “It means it will keep your smelly old foot from rotting right off!”

Trazna approached with the amber liquid gleaming in the moonlight, “Alright, this will sting.” Pippin braced himself before wincing with a barely muffled whimper of pain. “Sorry,” she winced as well in sympathy, retrieving a bit of cloth to dress the wound.

Pippin exhaled steadily, glancing from where she tied the bandage then up to her face, “Thank you.”

“It’s really the least I can do…” she faltered as admiring green eyes stared into black. She was about to continue before they heard a call from nearby.

“Traznarad!!” the voice was deep and rasping.

The orc woman stood, “Maugor!”

“More orcs!” Treebeard stepped between them and the group of orcs and one intimidatingly large troll next to which stood Scraw, looking especially proud of himself for bringing reinforcements.

“It’s alright, Treebeard, they’re with me!” Trazna stepped around the ent’s massive leg.

“What’s going on?” Maugor eyed the massive creature next to her with a warning glare, then the two halflings behind them. Merry and Pippin stiffened at the sight of the large orc. If there was any doubt that Trazna was an uruk, there was none whatsoever with this creature. He stood at least as tall as any of them they had encountered in the hoard the previous night, and he wielded an impossibility large battle hammer. Hair as black as Trazna’s flowed down his back in a braided crest, and the fangs that jutted from his lower jaw were large enough to be considered tusks.

“It’s ok!” Trazna held a calming hand toward her companions, “The little ones got snagged in our traps. I just finished dressing one of their wounds.”

The small pack lowered their weapons; even the troll deflated a bit, looking a bit dim instead of angry and intimidating. Maugor stepped forward as Treebeard as well let down his guard, “Come, then. We must take leave of this forest. It seems it is much too dangerous for our kind here.”

“Well we can’t just leave them to starve,” Trazna pled kneeling back down to help Pippin prop himself against the tree’s trunk.

The youngest hobbit’s ears perked at the possibility of food, and as usual, he was the first to speak up, “Our friend Treebeard can offer his protection while you’re here.” Maugor’s intense gaze darted to him, and his brain stammered for his next words.

“Treebeard can, can he?” the ent rumbled.

The uruk bowed slightly, a motion that belied his savage appearance, “I understand that a hoard of orcs and trolls may not be of much comfort to you, but we do not intend to bring your forest or its inhabitants any harm,” he stood to his full seven feet at least, “Save for a deer or two; we do have to eat.”

Trazna scoffed, “We’re hardly a hoard, anyway; there are only nine of us.”

““Very well...” Treebeard creaked, “…we will allow you shelter until you must take your leave.”

“Take your leave!” Scraw jabbed his elbow into the leg of the troll who stood beside him, “Ya get that, Bognaut? That’s a tree joke.”

“Tha’s a clever one, tha’ is,” Bognaut slurred with a low but not exactly intimidating laugh.

Maugor turned to the orc next to him with a nod, “Fintherok, take Deak and Babgoth to check the rest of the traps. I smell a doe nearby; perhaps we’ve caught it.” Fintherok did as his leader had instructed, quickly disappearing into the woods with the other two orcs, and Maugor turned to the younger uruk, “You had best hope there’s more than just a doe in those traps, Trazna; we can barely keep eight orcs and a troll fed as it is.”

She looked up at him, still perched on the balls of her feet above Pippin, “Well, come on! How much could two halflings eat?”

Said two halflings gave each other a sheepish look, “Right!” Pippin quickly recovered, “How much could we eat?”

After two does and two rabbits were retrieved from their traps. Fintheroth, a tall, lithe orc and Babgoth, a small, female orc with large eyes, skinned and gutted the catch a ways off in the woods. Not much went to waste, though, as many of the orcs didn’t mind eating the organs or even chewing on bones and sucking out the marrow, so the meat was divvied up and done with as each party member pleased. Traznarad showed the hobbits how to make a pit oven, where their fire could be easily controlled and not endanger the forest, something for which Treebeard was silently grateful for.

Merry and Pippin…though, especially Pippin, revealed their ill proportioned appetites quite quickly. The two were given the rabbits, roasted and even seasoned nicely in their newly built pit. Trazna as well preferred her meat cooked, though, she had said with a toothy grin, she liked it quite rare.

The band of bizarre characters laughed amongst themselves as they ate, many roughhousing and sharing less than savory tales of exploits and bragging, much in the way they had witnessed with Saruman’s hoard before, but in a rather more pleasant nature. Trazna sat with the hobbits, enjoying the new company.

“So Maugor…” Merry said somewhat under his breath, “He’s your…”

“Oh! We’re not related,” Trazna shook her head, taking a bite of the venison flank she had wrapped in a leaf to hold a bit like a sandwich, “But…we have been together for a long time. We escaped one of the breeding pits near Mordor together a decade ago. No, my birth father was killed when I was quite young.”

“I’m sorry,” Pippin abandoned his rabbit for the first time since it had been handed to him to look at her sadly.

“That’s alright,” she returned a sad but reassuring smile, “I remember him a little…but not much.”

“Was he an uruk?” Merry continued, before taking a bite from the leg he had dislocated from his own rabbit.

“No, actually, I…” she paused, considering her words, “…I don’t know whether I would be considered an uruk myself, or not,” the halflings now gave her full attention, “My father was an orc from Mordor, and my mother is a half orc from Harad. See, I was born naturally, whereas Maugor and his kind were born from the ground,” she shook her head, a slightly strained look crossing her features, “I don’t know the exact process, but I know it’s a lot less pleasant, all things considered.”

Pippin forced his less mature side to ignore the implications of this statement, instead inquiring elsewhere, “Your mother is still alive, then?”

“Yes,” the shine in her dark eyes glittered, half in reminiscence and half in sorrow, “She’s a prisoner in Harad. That’s where we’re going. We wanna free the captive men and orcs there.”

“Captive?” Merry’s brow furrowed, “Aren’t the Haradrim sided with orcs?”

“No one sides with orcs. They side with Sauron,” she gave a dry laugh, “Orcs are pawns just like everyone else in Harad. There’s hardly a choice in anything for an orc. If we decide we don’t feel like terrorizing innocents anymore, we aren’t exactly given the choice to leave freely,” her gaze turned to Pippin, whose green eyes stared wide with a now idle cheek-ful of rabbit, “Orcs are all prisoners, and we’re specifically conditioned not to realize it,” she shook her head, now leering into nothingness as she tore off a chunk of meat. “But not us…” she glanced back toward the hobbits mid chew, “Not ME.”

Pippin frowned in thought. He had never considered the orcs as prisoners before. Truthfully, they all seemed to enjoy the destruction and cruelty they inflicted on the weak and innocent. But then again…most armies seemed overly keen on bringing death down upon the enemy, and as Sauron intended to bring darkness to the world, he would seem like a hero to creatures that feared light. He came to realize that this made the whole thing even more disturbing.

These musings were pushed out of his mind as Trazna nodded to them. “Being a captive did teach me some useful skills, though,” she went to her belt again and retrieved what looked to be a small metal and an irregularly shaped lump of copper, “Most orcs unwillingly under Sauron work in one of the industrialized areas created by Saruman,” she began shaving away at the little chunk of copper meticulously, “I learned metalworking there.”

Merry’s golden curls bounced as he shook his head, “I thought orcs only made crude armor and weaponry.”

“Well,” Trazna gave a matter-of-fact shrug, “That’s what we were SUPPOSED to make. But I made other things when I could. You can bet I got flogged for it more than once though. I did make it out with these!” She pulled out her scythe and, to both hobbits’ surprise, in a quick twist of her wrists the gleaming blade was now two separate weapons.

Pippin shuddered, “I suppose you could do a bit of ghastly damage with those.”

“Sure…” she pursed her lips indifferently, “…but they can do a lot more than that. I can climb a wall with them, I can light kindling with them,” she ran a nail across the abrasive sides of the blade she had used to light kindling earlier, then sliced at the air, “If there are branches in my way, I can hack down-“

Treebeard grumbled next to them, startling all as they had almost forgotten he was about.

“…my internalized…disrespect towards nature?” she continued sheepishly with a chuckle, and the ent grumbled something intelligible before retreating to whatever tree business he saw to each night. She handed each half of the versatile tool to each halfling for them to look at.

Each examined the intricate details of their half, and Merry traced fingers along the blade, “The engraving is like somethin’ ya might see in a dwarvish...even an elvish weapon.”

She bowed her head, “I took a bit of inspiration from both...of course, with a bit of an orcish twist.”

“You made these?!” Pippin half asked, half exclaimed in awe, carefully testing the sharpness of the tool, before looking up to what she worked on now, “And what kind of tool will that be?”

She looked up to him, a slow smile spreading across her face, “It’s a duck.” She held up the little copper piece, and indeed, it was taking the unmistakeable shape of a water fowl.

Pippin nodded, grinning stupidly, “Ah! So it is!”

The corner of her mouth twitched as she suppressed an amused chuckle as Merry, took the two blades and twisted them into one, handing it to Trazna, who put it back in its holster.

“So…” she continued, casually going back to her carving, “...what do hobbits usually do when they’re not hauling an elvish weapon of mass destruction across the continent?”

Pippin went moon-eyed, “You know about the ring? OW!!”

Merry elbowed his cousin hard with a warning glare.

“I do now…” Trazna paused again to gaze up at the now guilty expression on the young hobbit’s face, “All we knew was that it was a weapon, and Sauron wanted it,” she eyed the two with a knowing smirk, “It’s THE ring, isn’t it? You have THAT ring with you?”

“Not us…”

“PIPPIN!!!” Merry scolded his friend a second time.

“We can trust her, Merry!” Pippin argued, “Don’t you think she’s proved that by now?!”

“Frodo didn’t even trust all of the Fellowship with it!” Merry shook his golden head, “Gandalf wanted it secret for a reason!”

Trazna held up her hands defensively, “Hey! Say no more! If you can’t talk about it, I won’t ask.”

Pippin looked to her apologetically, “I’m sorry. We mean no offense…”

She grinned down to him, “None taken.” Pippin lowered his head, trying to hide any evidence of the heat he could feel in his cheeks, as she continued, “It would probably be best that neither of us spoke of the other to anyone after tonight...according to the enemy, we’re all up to no good.”

The halflings smiled to each other, and Merry nodded, “Nothing’s changed there. That’s what we were known for back home; bein’ up to no good.”

“Oh, yeah?!” Trazna arched an eyebrow, holding up the copper duck to examine her progress before putting it down, “Have we run into a couple of delinquents in the deep, dark woods?”

Pippin’s eyes twinkled with mischief, always one to take the opportunity to brag, “We were in the middle of raiding Farmer Maggot’s crops when our journey found us,” he elbowed his cousin with a cackle, “We made off with quite a haul that day, eh, Merry?”

Merry nodded with a chuckle, and Trazna clutched at the carved string of teeth about her neck as if they were pearls, “Morgoavh’uk thos! You’re a couple of criminals!”

Pippin grinned cheekily, picking his teeth with a rib, “Aye! Already got holda’ some a’ yer spoils at it is!”

Trazna laughed heartily, “Ya know, as a kid back in Harad, we used to-“

“I’m sorry, Traznarad, but we must move on,” Maugor interrupted, and the trio turned their attention to the towering uruk, “We only have a few hours more of darkness, and we won’t get far once the sun rises.”

Her face fell before turning to face the two hobbits with a sad smile, “Well...I guess this is it, then...”

Merry and Pippin adopted the same solemn looks as Trazna stood, and Pippin felt a pang of regret that their new friend had to leave. It hadn’t been until now that he had truly realized that parting ways was inevitable and that it would bring him sadness. He felt a slight tightness in his throat, “I guess so...”

Trazna knelt, placing a hand on each of the hobbits’ small shoulders to give them an affectionate squeeze, “Don’t get into more trouble than you must.”

“A bit late for that,” Merry gave a dry laugh.

“Do you think we might see you again?” Pippin had blurted the question before he realized how stupid it was. Trazna beamed down at him, cupping his cheek and rubbing a gentle thumb across it. Pippin’s heart thumped at the intimate contact as Trazna seemed to be searching for an answer.

“If I say yes, maybe we will.”

Pippin took the hand that had been on his cheek between his significantly smaller ones, “Then we’ll see you then.”

She nodded, “Goodbye, Pippin...Merry.”

They said their final goodbyes and watched as Traznarad and her clan retreated into the dense wood.

Finally, Merry spoke, a knowing smirk across his face, “Well, I never thought I’d see that of you, my dear Peregrin.”

Pippin cocked his curly head, “See what?!”

“All starry-eyed over an orc woman?” Merry shook his head dramatically, “What would the folks back home think?”

Pippin’s jaw dropped with a scoff, “I was NOT “starry-eyed”!!”

“No shame in it, Pippin! She’s quite pretty,” Merry patted his now beet-red faced friend on the shoulder, “ESPECIALLY pretty for an orc.”

The younger hobbit pouted, shrugging off Merry’s hand.

“Come on, Pip,” he chided, “She was sweet on you.”

Pippin’s head snapped in his friend’s direction, “She was?!” Merry’s grin was wide and smug, and Pippin straightened as tall as he could, “I mean…of course, she was!” He waggled his head proudly, thumbs hooked under his suspenders, “No female is immune to the Took charm, no matter the race!”

“Yeah?” Merry cackled, “Or maybe she really did want to eat you but was just too polite.” Pippin looked wounded before Merry mussed his curly hair. Noting the melancholy that had shrouded his friend’s countenance, he continued, “Who could say...maybe you will see her again.”

A slow smile once again spread over Pippin’s face, and he seemed himself again, “Yeah, maybe we will.”

Black speech phrases (Forgive me if these aren’t exactly accurate.) Pa-gog aukuk — dumbass Morgoavh’uk thos! — Morgoth’s balls!

#pippin #peregrin took #lord of the rings fic #pippin/oc #hobbit/orc

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