𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝕾𝖆𝖚𝖗𝖔𝖓

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔈𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔶-𝔗𝔴𝔬

"Are you sure this will work?" Gimli looks at me. 

"Honestly... I'm not so sure about anything." I say.

What if we fail? What if I fail? It's a terrifying thought but one my mind dwells on often. I can't imagine what will happen if we lose? What will we become? What would happen if Sauron killed Frodo and Sam? I will feel like it was my fault. 

"We must have faith." Gandalf says.

I nod. Faith is hard to combi these days. We ride to the gate. It opens. The mouth of Sauron walks forward on a horse. He's foul natured. Whatever his twisted tongue has to say I will most likely ignore. His words are nothing but webs of lies. 

"My master Sauron the great bids thee welcome. We've been expecting you." He forces a smile.

I let out a small chuckle.

"Tell your master this foul creature, the armies of Mordor must depart. He is to leave this land and return to the abyss." Gandalf says.

"Hmhmmh. One other has said those words, the elven prince..." He gestures.

"Legolas!" Gimli yells.

Two orcs push him. My eyes widen. They slam him into the ground. He's alive. I grip my hands. Mary and Pipin look up. Gimli's eyes light with fire. They hold his neck up. They place a knife to it.

"You have a choice here... you can either surrender or let one more of the fellowship die. He'll die just like the other. How much death can you take?" He asks.

"Who's the other?" Gandalf says.