A/N: Hello, everyone, and welcome to 'Helpless'! This story made me very, very sad. It was actually kind of fun to write, though. So I hope you all enjoy it.

I'm not an expert on Lord of the Rings yet, and have not yet read the books, so please excuse me if I make any silly mistakes. I tried.

The story takes place in the 2nd movie, if Merry and Pippin had been captured by Saruman instead of finding Gandalf in the forest. It's rated for torture, blood and character death. I know there are a ton of stories like this, but please give mine a chance. Thank you!

Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Lord of the Rings.

"It hurts, Merry."

"I know, Pippin. It's ok. It'll be alright."

"It hurts, it hurts! Make it stop! Make it stop Merry!"

"I'm sorry, Pippin. I can't help you. I'm so, so sorry."

"You said it'll be alright! It's not alright! Help me, Merry! Help!"

"C'mon, Pip! Hang in there! Just a bit longer!"

"…you couldn't protect me."

And he died.

And I could do nothing but watch.

I was jolted awake by this sickening dream, panting, cold sweat running down my face. It was a terrible dream, and I was sorry to say it was also a reoccurring one: one that had been the same for the past four nights. It always went the same way: Pippin was laying in my arms, shivering uncontrollably, lethal-looking wounds covering his small, fragile body. And, as my little cousin slowly slipped from this world, I could do nothing but watch. I was helpless in every situation.

Shaking my head to rid myself of the images the dream had implanted in my head, I glanced around the prison cell that I was being kept in. It brought little comfort to me. It was cold, moldy, and carried the stench of rotting flesh and Orcs. There were some bones piled in the corner. The only source of light in the cell was from a small window through the cell door, but even that didn't supply much.

I slowly say up, my back and head sore from sleeping on the cold floor. But that wasn't the only thing that was soar. My ankle, which was chained to the moldy wall, hurt from having a shackle locked around it for four days straight. The gash above my eyebrow that I had received the night before my arrival was still throbbing quietly, causing periodic headaches. There was deep wound on my arm from where I had been whipped, and many bruises on my bare chest. All my wounds, besides the ankle, were old, though.

Pippin and I had been brought to Isengard four days ago, after being captured by Saruman himself in the forest we had escaped into. Of course we expected what would come next: a small amount of torture in exchange for us not telling the wizard the whereabouts of the ring. Of course we wouldn't tell him. We would never cave in. So we were whipped and beaten and bruised, until Saruman ordered the Orcs to take us away. We were relieved, the torture had been easier than we expected, until we realized we were being taken away to separate cells.

Being separated from Pippin hurt so badly. At fist I wasn't too concerned. I was worried, of course, but I thought that we were going to be in for the same fate, even if we were in different cells. But now, four days later, the only other beings I had seen were the Orcs who deliver me my food and water, which has only happened once in these four days. We thought the questioning would happen often. So why had Saruman kept me locked up in here for four days instead of trying to get the information he wanted out of me?

My brain could only think of one response: Pippin. He was torturing Pippin instead of me. Why he was saving me, I did not know. All I knew was, right now, my little cousin might be on the verge of death. And, just like in my dream, I could do absolutely nothing to save him.

I moaned at the thought of my cousin, my best friend, my companion for life, in a terrible condition such as in my dream, and let myself fall back onto the floor. I didn't care if I had the nightmare again. I didn't care if my stomach was crying out for food, or if my wounds stung whenever they came in contact with the harsh floor. Right now, I just wanted to sleep.

So I did.

But before the reoccurring dream had time to start, I woke up. I glanced around the dark cell, wondering what could have awoken me, when I heard it; footsteps outside the cell door. Heavy footsteps. Orc footsteps.

I just barely had time to sit up when they pushed open the door, and about five Orcs entered the room, just as ugly and foul-smelling as ever. As one cut my shackles loose, freeing me from my spot to the wall, another grabbed a fistful of my curly hair and wrenched me to my feet. I yelped, which seemed to amuse the filthy Orc.

"Your comin' with us," rasped the one who had hold of me. "Try anything, and you die where you stand." He released my hair and instead grabbed hold of my arm, digging his long, filthy nails into my flesh. I bit my lip so as not to cry out, and they led me out of the cell and down the dark, musty hall. I was a bit wobbly on my feet, and they shoved me whenever I walked too slowly for their liking.

They took me up stairwells and through narrow hallways, making our way up Isengard Tower. I knew where we were going: Saruman's throne room. It was where Pip and I had been brought our first day here. I wondered what they wanted me for. Was it finally time for me to be questioned on the whereabouts of the ring? Part of me was frightened; knowing a fresh, new wave of pain was soon to come. The other part of me felt relieved; if it were to be my turn to be questioned, Pippin probably would get a break.

As expected, our procession ended up in Saruman's throne room, where the white wizard himself sat, looking all high and mighty up on his throne. I was brought to the center of the room, where I was pushed roughly to the ground by the Orcs, only barely catching myself before my face hit the ground. The Orcs backed up to the walls, looking excited as if they were about to see a grand show. Which they probably were.

"Ah, Halfling." Saruman stated in a voice that almost made it sound like he was almost excited to see me. Almost. "I think you know why you are here, yes?"

Sounding a lot braver than I felt, I looked him straight in the eye and responded, "If you want to know where the ring is, I'm not going to tell you anything. You can torture me until I die, but you won't hear a word from me!"

The mention of torturing me until I die seemed to rouse the Orcs standing behind me, for they all began grunting and spitting and laughing nastily. But, with a wave of his hand, Saruman silenced them.

"You are both right and wrong about that, Halfling," Saruman replied back coolly, standing up from his throne and beginning to pace slowly. "You are right about me wanting to know where the ring is. However you are wrong," he now stood tall in front of me, towering up above me and looking like a giant, "about me having to torture you until your death. No, you will not be the one to be tortured to death. There is someone else for that."

I felt my heart drop into my stomach, and I froze, eyes wide. Terrified. He couldn't mean… could he?

Saruman turned toward the door I had entered through, and yelled, "Bring him in!"

He could.

In came two Orcs, dragging a small body between them, which was struggling weakly against their hold. Then the Orcs dumped the body onto the ground next to Saruman's throne.

It was Pippin.

There seemed to be not one place on his body that was left unharmed. Every single inch of him was covered in blood or bruises or gashed or scratches or burns. His curly locks of brown hair were now mostly plastered to his forehead with blood, both dry and fresh. What I could see of his face was as white as sheets. The rest was covered in red, black, and tints of yellow. His clothes were torn to tatters. His left leg was twisted at an odd angle, as were most of his fingers on his right hand. What I could see of his back was covered in long gashes that I knew must have been the result of heavy whippings. He was so skinny I could see his bones in multiple places, and many rib bones in his chest were poking out, clearly broken. And now he was crumpled on the floor, breathing heavily and slowly, eyes trying hard to stay open.

I felt my heart break in two. This was so much more than I could handle. This was more than I could have ever even hoped of handling. This was… this was…

This was unthinkable.

I was on my feet, running to him; running to my dear Pippin. My poor, poor Pippin. But, why wasn't I moving? An Orc had grabbed me, was pulling me back. Away from him. Away from Pippin. My poor, poor Pippin. The Orc clawed me and kicked me, but I refused to stop trying. I needed to get over there; I needed to get to Pippin. Pippin needed me. He needed his Merry. Let me go. Let me go. I need to see Pippin. Pippin. I'm so sorry, Pippin…

I wasn't even aware that I was kicking and yelling and screaming, trying to do anything to get out of the Orc's grasp. I was yelling at Saruman, about all the terrible things he had done to my Pippin. Who could be so evil? Who could be so terrible? Why would anyone do this? How could anyone do this?

Next thing I knew, I was being slapped across the face by the wizard. Suddenly knocked back to my senses, I fell where I was, the Orc still viciously holding on to me. I became aware that I was now bleeding heavily in multiple places because of my little brawl with my captor, but I didn't care. It was nothing compared to Pippin. Nothing.

I could now hear that Saruman was talking to me. "Now, little Halfling, either you tell me where the ring is, or you get to witness your friend here be tortured to death."

Now not only was my heart ripped in two, but my brain, as well. What was I to do? What could I do?

A billion thought were racing through my head at once. If I told him where the ring is, Frodo is doomed. The bad guys would win. The end of the world would be upon us. There would be nothing in the world but darkness. How? I was not completely sure. But the one thing that I had learned from this quest so far: everyone was after the ring. So it must be important.

But if I didn't tell him where it was, I would lose the one thing in this world that was important to me. I would lose my cousin, my best friend, my companion for life. The one I had grown up with. The one who I would read stories to, the one who would always tag along with us older kids and get upset when we told him he couldn't play with us, the one who was my partner in crime, the one who I spent all my time with…

I looked up into Saruman's cold, dark eyes. There was nothing there. Nothing but coldness and emptiness.

"Before I decide… may I speak to him? Please?"

Saruman eyed me suspiciously, then finally said, "Make it fast, then tell me your decision. And if you try anything, I'll kill you both."

I knew he meant it. The Orc finally released me, and I felt myself running over to the bloodied body that lay crumpled on the floor.

I reached Pippin's side in no time. The first thing I did was kneel down by his side and take his hand in my own, stroking it gently. I saw his bloodshot eyes try to focus on me.

"M-Merry?"

My heart broke, again, when I heard how weak his voice sounded. The voice that had once been so loud, so confident, broken.

"It's ok, Pippin. I'm here. I'm here now."

He squeezed my hand tighter, shaking violently and flinching as if someone was hitting him. "Merry… it hurts…"

I, myself, flinched at his words, for they sounded exactly like his words from my dream. I squeezed his hand back. "I know, Pippin. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry you ended up like this. I'm so sorry, Pippin."

Pippin's clouded eyes looked up at me again. There was so much sadness in them, it hurt. "Don't be… sorry… Merry. Not your… fault… mine…"

I shook my head, tears rolling freely down my dirty cheeks, leaving clean streaks. "No, don't say that. Don't talk nonsense."

His breathing became more rapid and raspier. "Merry… I don't think I can… go on…"

"No, Pippin! You can't give up! You can't! You can't… can't leave me!"

"Merry, you need to make sure… the ring… the ring is… s-safe… It's more important…"

"Pippin. Pippin please."

"It's all up to… to you."

"No…" I choked.

My cousin gave me a small, sad smile. "Finish it for both of us, kay?"

I looked down at him, my small, helpless cousin. He looked so broken, so defeated. Yet still so… hopeful.

I wiped my tears out of my eyes. Then I nodded.

For the next hour, my cousin's screams were the only thing that could be heard in Isengard. I had never felt so helpless.

A few hours later, Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, Gandalf, and some others arrived at Isengard. With the help of the Ents, they flooded Isenguard and took it as their own. It was when the flood was nearing its end when Aragorn noticed a small figure; frantically waving it's arms about from a high window of the tower. It took the king a second to realize it was a hobbit. His heart leapt with joy. They had not failed, after all.

After directing the other's attention to the hobbit, they got a tall Ent to help the small Halfling down. When he was placed on solid ground again, his companions, whom had all missed and worried about him dearly, mobbed him with hugs. They noticed his poor condition, immediately getting him something to eat, and began tending to his wounds. He was all too quiet, his eyes swollen, his face twisted. That was when Aragorn realized that someone was missing.

"Merry, where is Pippin? Is he still in the tower?"

All Merry could do was shut his eyes tight and shake his head.

A/N: The End!

In case you were wondering, I purposely switched POV's and made the story seem very rushed at the end. It's just a style of writing I like, I guess.

Anyways, I really hoped you liked reading this as much as I liked writing this! I hated killing Pippin… but I think it made a pretty darn good story, don't you agree?

If you do agree, please review and tell me so! I love reviews; they make me so happy! Even if you didn't like it, (yet, for some reason, read all the way through it), please review anyways and tell me what I can improve upon! Thanks!

And thanks so much for reading!

~blue-eyed-cow