The Crownless Again Shall Be King

Chapter One- The Road to Isengard

Chapter One- The Road to Isengard

We arose early the next morning and journeyed across the plains and through valleys until we at last reached Rohan. Memories came flooding back to me as the breeze whipped through my hair: being captured by the Uruk-Hai, being rescued by the Riders, the disgusting Gríma Wormtounge- and those poor Hobbits.

I wrapped my arms tightly around Legolas’ waist, inhaling the thick forest and spring scent he bore. “You smell like home,” I murmured.

He chuckled, “I do, do I?”

“Yes,” I smiled. “Like waterfalls and magic.”

Legolas chuckled again, running his free hand over mine. “You remind me of home too.”

“Really? What is Mirkwood like?”

“Well, it’s green for starters. Heavily forested, waterfalls, animals- the only negative thing about home are the spiders.”

I shivered. “I can’t stand spiders.”

“Then we’ll find somewhere else to live.”

The Forest of Fangorn came into view and our group cautiously made our way into the timber. The air again was filled with age and magic; the sun was shrouded by the leaves. Vines drooped down from the treetops, threatening to ensnare and strangle us.  “This place still frightens me,” I grumbled.

The path we were riding on was crooked and wound around the enormous tree trunks; I would surely have lost my way if wandering alone. This place was beautiful and ancient; but all the while alarmed me. “Actually,” Legolas continued, breaking the silence. “Fangorn isn’t all that different than Mirkwood.”

We were quiet for the next few hours, the sound of our shaky breath being the only sound. The horses were even silent, which was surprising because Arod had become accustomed to whinnying to break the silence.

My mind was racing. Why would Melkor want me? Why was this power I possessed so wanted? Was this the Hero’s Bane that Boromir had spoken of?

I was jerked from my thoughts when I realized that we had made it to the boarders of Isengard. The Black Tower loomed over the Forest, imminent like a great shadow. The city was under at least three feet underwater; debris and food littered the surface of the water. Huge, moving trees wandered through the muck and water: Ents; the Tree Herders. Walls were broken and crumbling; remains of the battle that had taken place not too long before. Atop those walls were two, young and familiar Hobbits.

“Merry and Pippin,” I said in relief. “They’re okay!”

“It’s good,” Merry commented, a pipe between his lips. “Definitely from the Shire. Longbottom Leaf.”

“I feel,” Pippin smiled, blowing a puff of smoke from his pipe. “Like I’m back at the Green Dragon, a mug of ale in my hand,” he held up a large, silver tankard. “Putting my feet up on a settle, after a hard day’s work.”

“Only, you’ve never done a hard day’s work,” Merry pointed out, sending them both into a fit of laughter.

“I do declare,” I chuckled. “Must you smoke and drink away all your problems?” I called out, causing them to see us for the first time.

They both cheered, waving and laughing. “Welcome, my lords and ladies!” Merry exclaimed. “To Isengard!”

“You young rascals!” Gimli fumed from behind Aragorn. “A merry hunt you’ve led us on!” my brother chuckled. “And now we find ye feasting… and smoking!”

“We are sitting,” Pippin objected. “On a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts.” He chopped down a slice of dried meat. “The salted pork is particularly good.”