This was written for Marigold's Challenge 45, in which I had to write about any kind of Moot.

Many thanks to Marigold & Llinos for the beta!

Merry sighed contentedly. He was lying upon a low-hanging branch of one of the trees flanking Quickbeam's home, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the forest and of the distant Entmoot. He could swear he could hear the low, slow voices of the Ents as they debated back and forth, although Merry wasn't sure he was actually close enough to hear anything. It could just be his imagination. What he could hear were the dead leaves of the trees rustling in the breeze, and the occasional twitter of a bird. It was so peaceful here; he couldn't believe that he and Pippin had actually been frightened of the forest when they had first entered it while escaping from the Uruk-hai. And the fact that they had been frightened of Treebeard... thinking back on it now, it was laughable. There couldn't be a creature with a sweeter nature than an Ent. Quickbeam was even more personable than most, and he was a joy to spend time with.

That's what worried Merry; that the Ents were such peaceful, slow to anger, steady folk that they may not become angry enough to join the war against Sauron. They had been left alone for so long, Merry was afraid that they would leave Middle-earth to fend for herself. After all, what had any of the other races ever done for the Ents and their forests? If anything, they had destroyed what the Ents held dear... trees, plants, grasslands, animals... it was a wonder the Ents had never risen up and become violent in defending their homes. But they never had. Now, when the need was most dire, they were being asked to dredge up feelings that were unnatural to an Ent: anger, vengefulness, rage, betrayal. What was worse, they were being asked to come to a decision in a decidedly 'hasty' manner.

Yawning, Merry looked around, realizing he hadn't seen or heard Pippin in quite some time. Suddenly anxious, Merry climbed down from his perch and went in search of his cousin. "Pippin?" he called into Quickbeam's 'house'. He got no response. Could he have become curious, and decided to explore without telling Merry? That would be most like him. Quelling his frustration, Merry walked back outside and headed towards the rear of the enclosure. As he got closer, he swore that he could hear stifled sobbing, the sort of crying one does when they are trying to hide their emotions from others. Concerned, Merry walked towards the sound. "Pippin?" he said softly.

The crying abruptly stopped. Merry smiled faintly as he heard the sound of a sniffle being muffled by a shirtsleeve. "Yes?" came the faint response.

Merry walked into view of Pippin, and took a good look at his younger cousin. Pippin's eyes were red and watery, with tear tracks marking both cheeks. He must have decided he couldn't hide the fact that he had been crying, because he smiled weakly and said, "I was hoping that you wouldn't find me."

"Why, Pippin? If something is wrong, why don't you just tell me what it is? That's what I'm here for; I'm a good listener, you know."

It was true; Merry was usually the one who ended up being on the receiving end of Pippin's chatter, since one was rarely without the company of the other. Merry was as patient with Pippin as an older brother would be with a younger, and frequently got as annoyed as one too. But always, he was there whenever Pippin truly needed a sympathetic ear.

Pippin sighed. "I'm just thinking about Frodo and Sam. We don't even know if they're still alive, Merry." The tears started welling again in Pippin's eyes. He angrily dashed them away. "They're out there, all alone, with nobody to help them find their way. They're just hobbits! They can't do this alone. Treebeard and the other Ents must decide to join in the fight. We have to convince them, Merry." Pippin stood up determinedly. "In fact, I'm going to go find this... Entmoot... and put in my tuppence worth. They have to know what we're up against, and we're the ones who can tell them that. Let's go, Merry."

"Wait, Pippin," Merry said. "We've already done all that we can. Now it's up to Treebeard to convince the others. Quickbeam has already decided in our favour. I don't think there's much more we can do at this point but wait."

Pippin's shoulders slumped. Merry didn't think he had ever seen him so dejected. "I just feel so... helpless, just sitting and waiting. I wish I could do something!"

"I think we've done all we can do for now, Pip. After all, we did lead the orcs away from Frodo and Sam; we helped make it possible for them to get away. It was unintentional, and I could have lived without being carried around like baggage, and being whipped, and all that. But the end result is, the orcs thought that they had captured the Ringbearer, giving Frodo and Sam time to get away without being spotted. And you've been very brave through it all, Pip; why, you even managed to slip your bonds, making it possible for us to escape! I'm so very proud of you, Cousin." Merry reached out and squeezed Pippin's shoulder. "If it hadn't been for your quick thinking, we'd probably be in Isengard by now ... or slain along with the rest of the orcs."

Pippin shrugged, and smiled slightly. "I just took advantage of opportunities that presented themselves, but thank you, Merry; it means a lot to me that you feel that way. I just wish that I could do more, somehow, you know? This feeling of helplessness... it sickens me. Especially when Frodo and Sam are out there, doing the best that they can without any help. At least, I hope they're still out there." Tears once again threatened to spill over.

Merry put his arm around Pippin and held him close as the youngster gave vent to his sorrow. Tears formed in Merry's own eyes as he comforted his cousin as best he could, but he refused to let them fall. Pippin needed him to be strong just now, and his own feelings of frustration and sadness had to be buried for the time being. He was the elder, and needed to be the one offering up hope and encouragement, not despair.

Pippin fell asleep with his head on Merry's shoulder, tears drying on his cheeks. The poor lad was utterly exhausted after all they had been through, and hadn't really had a proper rest until now. First there had been the unrelenting pace of the Uruk-hai, then the excitement of meeting Treebeard and Quickbeam; there had been no time for sleep and rest until now, and it had all finally caught up with the youngster. Merry didn't want to disturb him, so he continued to hold him as Pippin started to softly snore. Merry smiled to himself as he sat silently and mentally went over the past few days' happenings. After about a half an hour, Merry himself drifted off to sleep, head resting on Pippin's soft curls.

Quickbeam woke them up soon after; the sound of Ent voices lifted in song could be heard drawing closer with each breath. Merry and Pippin looked at each other with excited grins on their faces, hope welling within them. Quickbeam lifted the hobbits onto his shoulders and strode out to meet the other Ents. Treebeard greeted them most enthusiastically.

"We are marching on Isengard," he told them. "Come; there is no time to waste. If there was ever a time for haste, it is now, little hobbits. Saruman must not be allowed to continue to destroy what is left of our home. Already he has killed many of the trees that inhabited the fringes of Fangorn. It's time for us to come to the aid of those who cannot defend themselves. Let us march!"

Pippin breathed a sigh of relief. Merry smiled in gratitude. Another ally had joined in the fight against evil; Frodo and Sam's chance of success had just increased dramatically. In the end, that was what ultimately mattered. Elves, Dwarves, Men, Ents, Wizards... they could all join together against Sauron, but it remained Frodo and Sam's task to actually bring down the Dark Lord by destroying the Ring. Everything else was just a distraction.

Merry and Pippin finally felt themselves completely relaxing for the first time since their capture by the orcs. They lifted their voices along with the Ents as they marched:

To Isengard! Though Isengard be ringed and barred with doors of stone,

Though Isengard be strong and hard, as cold as stone and bare as bone,

We go, we go, we go to war, to hew the stone and break the door;

For bole and bough are burning now, the furnace roars - we go to war!

To land of gloom with tramp of doom, with roll of drum, we come, we come;

To Isengard with doom we come!

With doom we come, with doom we come!*

*The Two Towers, Book III, Chapter 4.