Rise (Lord of the Rings)

4 - Nowhere Is Safe

"How about we sit down?" I suggested in a squeaky voice. "Maybe I'll make up some tea?"

Neither Frodo nor Gandalf made any objections. I scurried into the kitchen and prepared some tea, trying to make my anxiety disappear. It wasn't working very well.

Frodo and Gandalf sat at the table, the ring made itself home on the wood of the furniture. I now despised that object more than ever before. If it came from a foul place, I didn't want it in the house, or in the Shire. It could go back to Mordor for all I cared.

"This is the One Ring," Gandalf explained. "Forged by the Dark Lord Sauron in the fires of Mount Doom. Taken by Isildur from the hand of Sauron himself."

"It sounds like such a lovely place," I said sarcastically as I poured some tea. My hands trembled a little bit.

Frodo looked at me worriedly. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine." I sat down next to Frodo after I gave up on pouring tea. I poked at an apple near me, trying to prevent myself from staring at the ring at the opposite end of the table.

"Bilbo found it," Frodo murmured. "In Gollum's cave."

"What's this?" I asked.

"That's where the ring was for a long time. A creature had it until Bilbo found it."

"I wish it had stayed with the creature, then."

"For sixty years, the Ring lay quiet in Bilbo's keeping," Gandalf said, "prolonging his life, delaying old age. But no longer."

I thought Bilbo looked young to be 111. So, this ring could slow down aging. A Hobbit aged differently enough as it was. I couldn't imagine slowing down aging more.

"Evil is stirring in Mordor," Gandalf went on. "The Ring has awoken. It's heard its master's call."

"You make it sound like it's alive," I snorted. "Gandalf, it's a ring. A ring can't do anything. It can't move around, and it certainly can't heed its master's call."

"Marlena, do you not know of the world you live in?"

"Are you suggesting there's magic involved with this ring? Forget I asked," I said quickly. "Didn't you say it was stolen from Sauron himself?"

"He did," Frodo agreed. "But he was destroyed. Sauron was destroyed."

All was silent, minus an odd hissing coming from the opposite end of the table—the Ring. Curious, I slunk to the side of the table, listening. I glared at the evil piece of jewelry. I felt the urge to grab the nearest object and beat it, as if it was a spider on the table.

"No, Frodo," Gandalf sighed. "The spirit of Sauron endured. His life force is bound to the Ring, and the Ring survived. Sauron has returned. His Orcs have multiplied. His fortress at Barad-dûr is rebuilt in the land of Mordor. Sauron needs only this Ring to cover all the lands in a second darkness.

"He is seeking it. All his thought is bent on it. For the Ring yearns above all else to return to the hand of its master. They are one, the Ring and the Dark Lord." Gandalf leaned forward slightly, to emphasis a point. "Frodo, Marlena, he must never find it."

"All right, then," I said, grabbing the object in question. I went out of the kitchen, searching for a good place to hide the blasted thing. "We put it away. We keep it hidden. We never speak of it again. After all, no one knows it's here, do they?"

I was answered by silence. I turned to see Gandalf standing in the way, Frodo at his side. Frodo and I stared at Gandalf.

"Do they, Gandalf?" My voice was a hesitant whisper.