Disclaimer - I don't own anything that features in this chapter! Poor me! I don't make any money from writing this, so please don't sue!

A/N - Wow! I was not expecting such a positive response! Thanks! This chapter is dedicated to Ailsa Joy because she keeps bugging me to write some blood in!

This chapter is AU in that the time scale is off and I invented a couple of things! So now you know....

Chapter 2 - Unexpected Darkness

Hoarse cries from the grey wilderness ahead halted the soldiers as they prepared to leave. Pippin squinted from his place at the front section of the troops and tried to make out who the lone scout running towards them was. The cloud and shadow formations shifted slightly and a brief shaft of weak moonlight allowed the halfling to see the bright golden hair that flowed out behind the scout, who was travelling with a grace that could only be elvish.

"Orcs! Orcs! Yrch! Yrch!" Legolas cried as he ran, lapsing into his own tongue. He reached the group and sought out Aragorn and Gandalf.

"Where are they?" said Aragorn.

"A league or so ahead, running ever further towards us. They aim to make a surprise attack on Minas Tirith. I believe that they are unaware a group marches to the Black Lands."

"How many?"

"Several hundred perhaps. Maybe less, maybe more. The dark remained too impenetrable to clearly make out. I could not be sure, but I think they had some men with them."

Aragorn turned to Gandalf and the man and the wizard locked gazes. "They cannot reach the White City."

Pippin caught only the end of this exchange, yet he knew all that he needed to know. They could not allow the orcs and men of the enemy to pass them. They had to protect the White City. They had to protect Merry.

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It took perhaps five minutes to organise the soldiers and move them to a position away from the wooded area where they had taken their rest. Any longer would have been disastrous: orcs travelled fast and one league was not a vast distance to them. They would be safer on the wild, flat lands which would not lend trees or cover of dense night to conceal the enemy. The plains that would expose the soldiers would be made to work in their favour and distract the orcs from their path.

A series of animal like cries announced that the soldiers had been seen.

As the enemy rushed towards them, two soldiers emerged from behind the main group brandishing lit torches, and set them to the tinder they had been able to collect in their haste. It would not help if they could not see who they were fighting. The bonfires blazed brightly within seconds and several hundred orcs and cruel featured men were illuminated.

"Pippin," Gandalf said to the halfling, as Aragorn signalled for the soldiers to stand ready, "I want you to stay back and unnoticed if you can. The Dark Lord has many servants with many purposes and I do not want you to place yourself or any others in unnecessary danger."

"But surely I will be in more danger if I do not fight."

"Not if you remain unseen. Pippin, Sauron knows that a hobbit carries his Ring. We need to destroy the troops without the complication of rescuing any captives who will draw the Eye towards its own land."

Pippin looked forlorn. "I can fight. I will not get captured, don't make me sit and watch while many die."

"You have to do this. For Frodo."

Pippin nodded and started to run, dodging between the soldiers in the gloom and finding a collection of large rocks a short distance away to hide behind.

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The smooth grey chunks of rock somewhat sheltered Pippin from the chill of the night, but left him too far removed from the area of combat to be able to see clearly what was occurring. From what he could hear, the charge had begun; the clash of metal and the whistling of arrows singing clearly in the dark. Pippin squinted to see further, but the slight breeze was blowing the smoke from the bonfires across his line of sight and his view was obfuscated. He glanced at the sky instead, and was surprised to see a scattering of stars through a rent in the shadow that lingered constantly. Pippin wondered if Merry was looking at the same sky and drew hope from the thought.

He would fight. For Merry.

~~::~~

Pippin ran, hobbit quiet, onto the battlefield and tried to avoid being seen. His sudden bravery began to wear off as he moved further into the epicentre: he was no match for an orc or manservant of the enemy. They were almost twice his height and at least three times his weight; a hobbit would be like a small, frightened animal to them.

"Peregrin, look out!"

Pippin turned sharply around, alerted by Beregond's call, and swerved just in time to miss being cloven in two by the black sword of a wild looking man. The man regained his balance and went to strike again, but never even moved his sword. As he fell, Pippin withdrew his short sword from the body and stood back in shock.

He had killed someone.

Shakily, Pippin withdrew from the centre of battle and rushed into the black night. He had to get out: he did not belong here. He could not fight, he could not destroy a life - he was just a hobbit, peaceful and fun loving. He was not even of age yet. A child in the eyes of men should not be experiencing this. He had to get out. He had to get back home.

With the shock getting the better of him, Pippin collapsed, sobbing, onto the ground. After a few minutes he felt calmer, having somehow managed to convince himself that by killing he had saved the lives of his friends in Minas Tirith. That was, after all, where the orcs and men had planned to attack. He smiled. Merry would be proud of him anyway, when he told him how he had outwitted a fully grown man using his hobbit speed.

~~::~~

The sound of a heavy tread getting louder alerted Pippin to the fact that he was not alone. Pippin crept backwards. By the sounds of the boots shaking the earth, it was Gimli coming towards him, but he could not be sure. All of the orcs and cruel men were dead, weren't they? Pippin called out in greeting.

The footsteps stopped, and Pippin saw for the first time who had been walking near him.

They were not all dead - one remained.

"What's this?" the snivelling creature approached Pippin with a sneer on his hideous features, his sword drawn, "A rat? We don't get many o' the likes o' you round here..."

Good, thought Pippin. Now leave me alone so that you don't wipe out a species. He giggled at this in his nervousness, momentarily masking the feeling of terror that had come upon him.

The orc's sneer turned to a snarling smile. "I think I'll take you as a prize."

"N.. no!" Pippin stuttered, desperately scrambling backwards on the damp grass, then finding his back against a large solid mass.

"There'll be no escape for you, you little rat. Those men can't save you now."

The creature limped further towards Pippin, his leg seemingly damaged from some previous battle. Or perhaps a disagreement with one of his kin, thought Pippin, remembering the ruthlessness with which orcs survived from when he had been taken prisoner with Merry.

In a final, hopeless move, Pippin grasped the hilt of his small sword, which had dropped to the ground when he hit the rock, and drove it hard into the leg of the orc. A cry escaped its foul mouth and it lunged towards Pippin.

"I'll get you, rat. You'll die for that!"

Pippin closed his eyes, waiting for death. There was a whistling sound, followed by a loud 'thwack' and Pippin felt a heavy weight fall on him suddenly, crushing him. It groaned, the arrow in its back not enough. Pippin opened his eyes cautiously and was aghast to see the fire in the orc's eyes, glaring wildly at him. The orc raised its jagged, black sword with some effort and went to bring it down on Pippin's head.

'Thwack'.

The orc's arm slipped in its agony and Pippin watched in horror as the blade fell and broke his skin. White hot pain passed through Pippin's body and he saw no more.

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