A/N: Written for Marigold's Challenge 19. Thank you to Pipwise for the beta and for the plotbunny! :)

Half a Sticky Mile

Quiet and anxious, Merry and Pippin crouched low atop a heap of rubble. The air around them felt heavy and oppressive, weighed down by the dark and foggy night that had descended upon Isengard, obscuring all but noise. A strange energy buzzed through the air, full of eerie creaks and ominous rumbles on all sides. It seemed that something was moving past them, though the hobbits could not tell what it was in the darkness.

A brief glint of lightning lit up the sky, and for one moment the hobbits saw a long line of tall, mysterious figures passing by before they were plunged into misty darkness once more.

“What was that?” Pippin hissed.

"Huorns, I think," Merry whispered. “Treebeard said they were going to help.”

Pippin shuddered and turned away, stretching out on the rock for a moment before reconsidering and shifting closer to Merry, curling tight into his cousin's side. “They’re not at all like Treebeard,” he muttered against Merry's shoulder. “I’m glad it was him we bumped into, and not one of them. They frighten me. I keep thinking of the Old Forest.”

Merry exhaled deeply; the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. "I had the same thought,” he admitted, wrapping a reassuring arm around his cousin’s tense shoulders. “But it will be all right. The Huorns are on Treebeard’s side. They aren’t going to bother with us.”

Pippin did not lift his head, but Merry smiled as he felt his cousin's shoulders slowly relax. They remained on the rock, awake and unable to find rest whilst the unsettling sounds of the departing Huorns continued on into the night. Sometimes the trees seemed so near to where they lay that the hobbits hardly dared to breathe, but finally, as the Huorns left Isengard behind, the noises died away and the air was almost still again. It was then that Merry and Pippin heard the sound of water rushing nearer and nearer

“What’s happening now?” Pippin asked, sitting up and looking over the edge of the rock.

“It sounds like the river is overflowing,” Merry replied. “Quick, let’s climb a bit higher.” The hobbits reached the top of the pile of rubble just as the torrent of water roared past, swirling around them and pounding the stones until they shook. The sound of wood splintering and metal twisting thundered in their ears, and steam and smoke filled the sky.

After some time passed the floods ceased to rise and instead leveled out until all of Isengard seemed as still as a basin of water.

“Well!” Pippin said with a smile, finally reassured that he and Merry would not be swept away. “I’m glad it didn’t go over our heads. The Ents might not have thought it very deep, but we’re only hobbits.”

Merry grinned. “They do finish their work quickly for such unhasty folk,” he said, stifling a yawn. “And now I wonder if it is safe enough to sleep for a bit. I’m exhausted, and it will soon be morning.”

The hobbits settled themselves as comfortably as they could on the stack of stone, and drifted off to sleep listening to the far-off hoom-hoom of the Ents.

When Merry woke just a few short hours later, the water had drained away into the caverns and pits below. The heavy fog remained overhead, enshrouding the top of Orthanc in mist.

Merry frowned up at the sky, troubled by the uneasy quiet that had settled over the land. Though it was morning only the palest glimmer of sunlight shone through the fog and after the excitement of the night before, he had expected to see and hear the Ents working or patrolling the area.

But there was no one in sight, and the more Merry thought on it the more it seemed unnatural, as if he were the only person left in the world. He shivered at the thought and cast his eyes upon his cousin, who lay beside him sprawled on the rock and slumbering on, tucked snugly in his cloak.

Making up his mind, Merry nudged his cousin repeatedly with his foot until a hand snaked out of the folds of fabric and grabbed hold of the offending toes. A pair of green eyes opened, sleepy and glaring.

“Is breakfast ready?” Pippin demanded.

Merry laughed, already feeling better. "I'm afraid not. I have nothing but crumbs in my pockets."

The eyes snapped shut, and Merry wondered if Pippin would go back to sleep. But after a moment Pippin sat up, yawning hugely as he disentangled himself from his cloak. "What a foggy morning! I thought at first it was smoke, and that you were cooking."

"We’ll need to find some food first. There must be a larder tucked away somewhere, and hopefully not ruined by the floods,” Merry said. “Perhaps we can take shelter in it, as well.”

“It would be good to get out of this fog, at least, if only for your sake. You've been worrying about it this morning, haven't you?" Pippin asked, eyeing Merry carefully.

"No! Well, maybe a little," Merry conceded under Pippin's shrewd gaze. "It's just that I can't see or hear the Ents. It all seems too calm to me, and I’d wager that they’re planning something, another flood perhaps. I would prefer to be in a safer place when that happens.”

Pippin nodded in agreement. “I didn't like waiting out here at all last night, with the Huorns and the floods,” he admitted with a frown. “Maybe we can find one of those guard-houses we passed.”

For a few moments they sat in silence, scanning the half-destroyed buildings dotting Isengard that floated in and out of view as the fog shifted.

“Look,” Merry said finally, pointing at a dark, hazy shape not too far away. “I think that is one of those archways we came through yesterday. If we go through it again, we should come across that guard-house we passed."

"Good old Merry!" Pippin exclaimed with a joyous grin. "We should be safe enough in there, and with any luck find some food."

The water had receded, sinking down into the depths of Isengard, leaving a layer of mud and filth on the ground that the hobbits were forced to pick their way through. It was difficult to move quickly, for their feet often got stuck, held in place by the grime.

“A bath sounds nearly as good as breakfast!” Pippin declared, frowning down at his dirty, slime-covered feet.

They continued on, following what remained of the ruined gates. Often they had to edge past large metal contraptions and sharp bits of machinery that stuck out of the ground like jagged teeth.

Before long the large stone archway loomed over them, high and gloomy in the mist. They passed through the arch and into a tunnel. The floods had not drained as well here, and shallow water filled the passage, reaching up to their ankles. Undeterred, Merry and Pippin splashed their way to the guard-house that lay ahead.

Pippin’s stomach rumbled loudly. “I hope there is a storeroom inside,” he sighed. “It’s been so long since we ate real food. I feel as if I could eat three breakfasts, and then sleep a bit and wake up in time for another!”

“No different than usual, then,” Merry replied with a grin. They continued along, making their way through the tunnel, when two large figures burst through a side door. They were men, frightful and orc-like in their dress and manner. They reminded the hobbits of the horrible Uruk-hai, and for a moment all four stood in the tunnel, staring at each other in surprise.

“Halflings!” one of the men finally cried. “What are you doing here, little rats? Come for a visit?” He lunged at them, his face twisted in a hideous snarl, but Merry was faster. He stepped back, tugging Pippin with him, and threw a protective arm before his cousin.

Both men laughed and drew their swords. “No need for that,” said the other. “We can kill you together.”

“Come on, Pippin! This way!” Merry cried, and nimbly they ducked out of reach. Dashing ahead, they skirted around a pile of fallen rocks, gathering up a few small stones in their hands. They pelted the men with them, hitting them several times but not enough to stop them from following, angrier than before and closer than ever to reaching them.

Down to his last rock, Merry aimed once more and hit one of the men squarely on the elbow. With a shout of pain he dropped his sword, his arm hanging broken and limp at his side, as the hobbits scrambled away.

A shallow ditch lay before them. Pippin jumped over it easily but Merry did not see it and stepped in. His foot got stuck in the bottom, trapped by a thick layer of sludge and muck and, arms swinging wildly, he tripped and fell flat on his face on the wet stone ground.

A rough laugh sounded in his ear and Merry found himself being yanked up by his collar. It was the other man, the uninjured one.

“Let him go!” Pippin shouted, his voice both angry and afraid. The man ignored him and lifted Merry high in the air, struggling and wriggling but unable to escape his iron grip.

Merry could feel the man’s stinking breath wafting across his forehead, and he forced himself to look into the man’s face. It was a terrible, ruined sight; deep, poorly healed scars and gashes littered his face, and it was something of a shock for Merry to discover that the man had only one eye, the other socket empty and gaping.

Something small and grey flashed at the corner of Merry’s vision, and in the next moment he found himself flying through the air and dropping to the ground in a heap. He rolled backward from the movement, landing hard on his shoulder, and sat up half in a daze to see that Pippin had knocked the man off his feet. Pippin now stood over him, each hand gripping a sword that he pointed at the base of the man’s throat.

“Pip?” Merry said incredulously.

“Merry,” Pippin replied, not looking up from his captive. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Merry said, slowly getting to his feet. He was wet and dirty, his shoulder was sore and he was certain that he felt a bruise forming on his chin, but other than that he was unharmed. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“Good,” Pippin answered. “I can’t turn just now, Merry. Can you come over here and give me a hand?”

Merry glanced over at the man with the broken elbow, who sat against the wall, cradling his arm and gaping at Pippin. He seemed to be in no condition to move and so Merry paid him no heed as he hurried to his cousin’s side.

“Ah, there you are,” Pippin said, smiling a little and handing one of the swords to Merry, never once taking his eyes from the man’s face.

Merry hefted the sword in his hands; it was heavy, and longer than the ones he and Pippin had kept from the barrow. It reminded him of the one Boromir had used, and pride surged through Merry’s heart as he thought of his little cousin besting their enemy. He turned to Pippin then with a smile, but it died on his lips before he could speak, as a noise met his ears, something far-off but rushing closer

“I think we should go inside,” Merry said. Pippin did not move, but continued to stare down at the man with an unwavering gaze. “Pippin, now,” he said more sharply.

“What about-?”

“Leave them,” Merry replied quickly, grabbing his cousin by the arm and pulling him backward to the short staircase that led to the doorway of the guard-house. “Come on.”

“Merry!” Pippin protested as they hurried up the steps and barred the door behind them. “What’s going on? Why didn’t we tie them up? They’ll come after us now.”

“There’s no time,” Merry said, hurrying Pippin through the long, empty chamber. “Didn’t you hear the water? There is going to be another flood.”

“Another flood?” Pippin strained his ears and, sure enough, he could hear the sound of water flowing.

“Yes,” Merry replied. “That tunnel was already filled with water, so we couldn’t wait there. We must get to higher ground.”

By now they had reached a door that stood at the end of the chamber. Merry flung it open; inside was a high, partially destroyed, winding staircase. Craning their necks, the hobbits saw that it led up to the broken roof.

“Go, go,” Merry urged, pushing Pippin in before him. Together they climbed the stairs; it was difficult to move quickly, as the steps were made for people with much longer legs, but still they managed to ascend higher and higher until they could go no further: their path was blocked by a high stack of stone stretching up to the ceiling. Below them the rising water had already filled the tunnel.

“It won’t budge,” Pippin said, heaving his shoulder against the stone. “Do you think it’s safe enough to wait here?”

“I don’t know,” Merry said doubtfully. To his ears it seemed that the water was moving very quickly, and he could hear the sound of rocks crumbling and walls falling.

Pippin pressed against the rubble once more, and this time Merry joined him, but even with their combined effort not one stone moved. A loud crack sounded below, followed by the sound of water growing louder; the door had broken open, and the floods were rushing through the lower level of the guard-house.

Merry’s heart leapt wildly. “We can’t stay here,” he said, desperately trying to heave the stones aside once more, and failing. “We’ll be trapped.”

Water continued to surge quickly through the house, and when they looked over the railing the hobbits could see it swirling at the bottom of the stairwell.

“I need to climb this,” Pippin said suddenly, bracing his hands on Merry’s shoulders. “Give me a leg up.”

“What?” Merry exclaimed in dismay. What if Pippin should fall? He eyed the dark water below them, and shivered.

“Merry, please,” Pippin said quietly, his eyes pleading. “Just do it.”

With a sigh, Merry boosted him up, and Pippin began rooting around the stones, banging on them with his hands.

“Oi, here’s one!” he exclaimed triumphantly.

“What is it?” Merry cried, peering through the darkness.

“A loose rock,” came the muffled reply. “And here’s another!” Suddenly Pippin became a great deal heavier, and Merry staggered under his weight.

“Pippin!” he groaned, somehow managing to keep a grip on his cousin, but in the next instant the weight was gone, and out of the corner of his eye Merry could see a large stone sailing past. All too quickly he heard and felt its loud splash, and Merry chanced a glance down. Every moment the water was rising higher, creeping up the stairs towards them.

“Oof,” Pippin grunted under the weight of another, larger stone, but this time Merry was ready and held his cousin tightly as he disposed of the rock.

“That’s enough, I think,” Pippin declared, and wriggled his way into the small space he had cleared between the rocks. He disappeared from Merry’s sight for a moment and when he reappeared he had shifted around so that he faced out of the hole. “Come on, Merry,” he said stretching his arms as far as he could reach.

Merry cast a hesitant glance at the pile of rubble, wondering how sturdy it was now that Pippin had loosened the stones, but the first touch of cold water lapping at his feet chased away any doubts and he rose onto his toes to grab hold of his cousin’s hands.

Pippin smiled encouragingly and pulled with all his might as Merry hastily clambered up the stones, using the sharp and broken ones as steps. Finally he reached the small space Pippin had made and crawled inside, the bottom of his cloak already drenched by the rising flood.

The space between the rocks was so narrow that with Merry in there Pippin could not turn, and instead had to inch out of it backwards. They moved as quickly as they could and once they had struggled out of the hole they scrambled onto the roof, racing across it to the great archway, where they finally stopped, out of breath and exhausted.

“That was close,” Merry said, still panting for breath.

Pippin nodded. “We needn’t have worried about the Huorns at all. These Ents are far more dangerous.”

They said no more, lapsing into silence as they watched the destruction of Isengard continuing below. Smoke filled the sky as fires deep in the ground were extinguished, and the rumbling of falling stone and the sharp clang of metal filled the air.

“I wonder what happened to those men,” Pippin quietly ventured after a while. “I’m glad we didn’t tie them up. I wouldn’t have wanted to leave them there like that when the water came in.”

“Neither would I,” Merry replied, wondering if they had managed to escape. He shivered a little and thought of Frodo.

“I’m glad Frodo wasn’t with us,” Pippin said, as if reading his cousin’s mind. Merry smiled a little and nodded.

“So am I,” he replied, “I wonder if everyone is safe. At least we know Gandalf is all right. Or at least he was yesterday." Merry frowned, thinking of how little they knew, how little seemed certain in the world, and wondering when, or if, they would see any of their friends again.

Pippin sidled up to him and rested his chin on Merry’s shoulder as they gazed down at the water. “I think he is. Gandalf is almost as good at getting out of scrapes as we are,” he said with a smile. “And he can’t have got into any worse trouble than we’ve just been in. I’m sure he’ll come back.”

Merry grinned suddenly. “He still called you a 'tom-fool of a Took.’ I suppose some things will never change.”

“Mmm,” Pippin mused. “I’m glad of it. Gandalf being cross reminds me of home. I’m afraid I’ll miss him sometimes, for all that Gandalf the White seems more powerful somehow –” He paused as his stomach rumbled, louder in volume than even the destruction carrying on around him. “Well, Merry, what we should do now? We never did find breakfast…”