<Pippin is forced to work in an alehouse in Rivendell
after it's overrun by Saruman's forces. Merry gets spitted
and eaten along with whatever elves are still around>
Pippin filled the drinking-horns, trying to ignore the
drunken goblin pinches. War chants almost drowned out
the groans of dying elves hanging from the parapets
and trees being tumbled into the river.
Then a pinch turned into a grab.
"Yesss, A hobbit knows where it is," a pale and pasty
creature rasps at the laboring halfling. "Whisper in
our ear where the nasty Bagginses put our precious and
we'll helps you gets backs to the Shire, we promises."
Pippin recoiled from Gollum shaking his head violently,
again regretting he'd dropped the sword Aragorn had
given him at Weathertop. Poor Aragorn. He'd hidden his
face against the stinking orcish hide when he was carried
past what the Nazgul left of the man who would have
been king.
"A hobbit will tells us," vowed Gollum, fading into
the passing horde of orcs.
<Pippin dies. Boromir dies. Sam dies. Rohan falls. Bill
the pony dies. Celeborn dies. Gondor falls. Gandalf
dies (again). Frodo dies. Wormtongue dies. Legolas dies.
Lothlorien falls. Eowyn goes bad then dies. Gimli dies.
Elrond dies. Arwen dies. Saruman dies. Sauron reigns
over all until the *really* bad guy comes down from
the North and kills everyone left. Valinor falls and
Iluvatar gets raped by balrogs.>