Work Text:
Merry peered through the swirling, enveloping fog. He blinked, shaking tendrils of hair out of his eyes. Droplets clung to his curls.
"Where's Frodo?" Sam asked, suddenly. Merry's heart skipped a beat. The three hobbits began frantically looking around, calling for Frodo, but the fog was getting thicker, and their calls fell muffled.
When they felt chilling arms grab them, they fought and shouted for help. The grip of the chill, seeming an extention of the fog itself, only intensified, and as Merry lost consciousness he had a brief vision of tall, terrible Men, and a spear piercing his heart.