Part III
Chapter 25:
Who you gonna call? Flood control.
Perhaps in the most shocking of progressions, the Fellowship and leaders of Rohan find themselves riding through the thick and spotty foliage of Fangorn Forest, guilty of orc slaughter a mere few hours ago. But in the same notion, I do believe the orcs were deserving of such repercussions, hearing the rumors of Saruman's destruction of these forested homes. And even if this gossip is untrue, the orcs are worthy of the karma they received on this day.
Our group makes quick progression to the North, galloping at high speeds across the plains and only slowing upon the forest's edge. It has been multiple hours since the Battle of Helm's Deep, and yet, the death toll still hangs over us. Thranduil has returned to the great elven city of Rivendell with a near half as many troops as he left with. And this is just the mortality rate of the elves, with Rohan losing a great many more. Indeed, the only fair news is the destruction of Isengard, the Uruk-Hai, and continuation of the Phoenician ranks. But the latter is little shock, seeing as we are immortal.
With my head tilted back and shoulders resting on Boromir's chest, I feel a great sense of ease and peace as we move under the canopies of evergreen leaves and chocolate bark. The sun-light sprinkles through in few places, catching my eyes from time-to-time and causing me to cringe back. And with the air at a heavenly temperature, I find myself wishing to sleep, fully trusting in Boromir and fearing no attack at this time. But before I can take to the thick covers of unconsciousness, our group accesses the old Isengard Road, with its tunnel of trees and mist covered boroughs. With the ease of travel only heightened for the horses, we travel at a quicker pace, finding ourselves at the gate of Isengard.
Perhaps it's the irony of treachery that prompts my giggles, or my deep belief in karma that causes me to flash into humour. Indeed, before our very eyes rests the remainders of Isengard. The thick battlement wall of the city has all but crumbled to the ground, leaving piles-and-piles of quartz to litter around our feet. But it is hard to even see the fallen boulders, seeing as the entirety of this lone town is swamped in clear and pristine waters that strongly contrast to the events that happened here. Surely, the only remaining and untouched structure is the Tower of Orthanc, more deserving of the wrath of war than any other creation. The fogs swirl its mighty spires, paying no damage to its higher levels. Perhaps the only damage that has come to Saruman's tower is the flood around its large and sturdy feet.
"Welcome, my Lords and Ladies, to Isengard," I hear a familiar creature voice, prompting me to perk up, back straight and looking to the misplaced hobbits of not long ago. I gasp at their united and merry sight, a few tears falling down my cheeks at the renewed state of fellowship. Seeing as Boromir and I are at the back of our group, almost hidden in the shadows, I did not catch upon their sight beforehand. But looking at them now, I cannot hold back a chuckle. Around their toes, knees, and hips lies a rich delicacy of foods, worthy of a feast and a celebratory one at that. Smoke escapes their long pipes with each breath of the wind, sun peeking onto their splayed and relaxed forms upon the withholding wall. We all stare in shock at the sudden return of our friends.
"You young rascals! A merry hunt you've led us on, and now we find you feasting and smoking," Gimli rants and rightly so. I doubt the two hobbits have any concern for the struggle they put us through, seeing to their innocent and ignorant hobbit nature. But at the same time, I pay no mind to the irritation stirring in my bones, taking in the breath of friendly joy.
"We are sitting on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts. The salted pork is particularly good," Pippin mutters through the food he is currenly chewing. I'd be disgusted if it wasn't for the overwhelming joyousness now coursing through my veins. These two hobbits could be streaking and I'd still be happy to see them.
YOU ARE READING
Of Dwarves and Men {Boromir/LOTR}
Fanfiction"Now I lay me down to sleep I pray the lords my soul to keep See me safely through the night And wake me with the morning light" ...and though that morning light is but a ghost on the Eastern horizon, it is one onto which we cling. In this dark age...
