𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝕾𝖆𝖚𝖗𝖔𝖓

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔶-𝔗𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢

"Good luck Frodo and Sam." Faramir says.

I nod. Sam is right. We can't give up now. "If you do not find a way, no one else will." Galadriel's voice rings in my ears. There has to be a secret way into Mordor. Smeagle knows it. I grip the ring. It's getting so heavy. I fear it will snap my neck. 

"Which way are you headed into Mordor?" Faramir asks. 

"Nan Dungortheb." I say.

Faramir draws back in surprise. 

"How do you know of that way?" He raises an eyebrow.

The hair on his beard seems to stand straight up. Is there something dark about Nan Dungortheb? 

"Smeagle says it's the only way." I say.

"Oh, did he?" Faramir grabs Smeagle.

"Stop it!" I yell.

"What trick kind of game is this?" Faramir growled.

"It's the only way!" Smeagle cried. 

"We have no other choice." I say.

I grab Faramir's arm. 

"Frodo, listen well, there is a strange dark force hidden in Nan Dungortheb." Faramir says.

"It's the only way to get into Mordor!" Smeagle yells.

"He's right." I say.

Faramir nods and drops Smeagle. He gaps in the air.

"I hope our paths will meet again." I say.

I nod. I turn. Sam starts following me. I can't give up now. Like in the great stories, all main heroes feel worthless at some point. Maybe not everything in this world is bad, there is some good and its worth fighting for.