You know what's amazing? I have 290 people reading this story from all across the world. On my traffic stats, it shows people from South Africa, New Zealand, Australia, Canada, Germany, the Philippines, Sweden, Iceland, Finland, Norway, the Netherlands, Poland, Denmark, Bulgaria, Colombia, Austria, Vietnam, Switzerland, Italy, Hungary, China, Great Britain, and the United States. I can't believe it. This silly little story about the Fellowship as high school kids has brought people from all around the globe together. Wow.
I love you guys. Each and every one of you readers. This is so crazy and I can hardly believe it. Never before have any of my stories been this popular. Thank you.
And now that I'm done talking about how bigheaded I'm getting over this, enjoy the story!
In the comfort and solitude of his office, where he was completely alone with nothing but the silence and the darkness, Sauron tossed back his pale head and laughed, a deep, harsh sound. The blinds were tightly shut and the lights were off, leaving Sauron alone in the din of his office to laugh and to gloat. He smoothed back his greasy black hair and righted himself, his dark chuckle fading into the silence. He had more work to do, much more, but he couldn't focus, didn't want to focus. All that mattered was the Ring.
He shook the mouse next to his computer and the screen glowed to life, making his eyes sting from the sudden brightness. Without even thinking, he moved to open the Ring, the screen illuminating in a brilliant gold and the computer humming as it worked. It finally loaded, revealing in great detail Sauron's many plans and knowledge about everyone in the entire school. He spent a considerable amount of time scrolling through Gandalf's file; his never-ending suspicion had finally wavered over to the elder guidance counselor. Gandalf couldn't be a large threat to the plan, but if the time came he knew what he would do. That was the beauty of the Ring, not only did it save his plans and his knowledge, it provided him with more if he requested it.
It was a self-designed program. Sauron himself had forged it in Mount Doom Incorporated, a program and graphics company in Mordor City. His biggest fear was losing the Ring and everything on it, but in the back of his twisted, suspicious mind he knew that the only way the Ring could ever be truly lost was if it was taken back to Mount Doom and deleted with their master computer system where it was created. And that soothed him.
He couldn't do everything on his own, he knew that. The only reason he had even hired Mr. Balrog was because he couldn't do this on his own. He needed Balrog, he needed his strength and his anger and his ability to radiate fear into those around him. The Ring had acquired a surplus of knowledge on Balrog's origins for him, but for what he could tell, it was mostly rumors. They spoke of a childhood alone and in fear, in the darkness and the heat of Khazad-dum City. Balrog didn't just radiate fear, he was fear, forged by anger and hatred and turned into the monster of a man he was today.
Balrog would do well. And that soothed him. He pulled away from the Ring's enticing grasp and leaned back in his chair, intertwining his skeletal fingers and staring out the slits of the blinds to the front of the school. He could barely make out the figures of the students trudging away from the school to head home. They were defeated, broken, and afraid. Sauron had taken whatever hope they had left and crushed it with a fiery, iron fist. Just as it should be. He was in power and no one was going to question that. His face contorted into a grotesque, dark smirk, but it quickly fell from his face when a loud, banging knock sounded at his door.
"Enter," he commanded.
In came Balrog, his face hardened and angry, even more so than usual. "Sir, there's been a disturbance outside."
"Take care of it, then!" he barked, scowling at Balrog's insolence.
"It's more protestors, sir."
That got Sauron moving. He leapt from his chair, squared his shoulders, and marched out of the office, bringing his ensemble with him, Saruman, Wormtongue the secretary, and Balrog trailing after him. They were the epitome of power and all in the halls cowered as they approached. A cruel smile played on Sauron's lips. He had won.
LINE.
Aragorn pressed his slim body against the wall as Sauron and his band of tyrants passed to the doors. He could feel his heart ramming against his chest in nervous, quickened beats, each hard and painful with nerves and fear. This was their one shot at getting the Ring. They couldn't fail now. They had come too far. His faith lay with Legolas, Merry, and Pippin to distract the administration while Frodo, Gimli, Sam, and Gandalf went to retrieve the Ring. If Legolas and the freshmen failed, it fell to him and Boromir to guard the office and give the retrievers enough time to escape.
"You ready, Captain?" There was no haughtiness, no teasing in Boromir's voice now. It was sincere and concerned and when Aragorn turned to look at his friend, he truly did look young and worried.
"Yup," he said, nodding grimly. "Let's go."
They crossed the foyer to the office doors and leaned against the wall nonchalantly, nodding discreetly when Mr. Gandalf ushered Frodo, Sam, and Gimli into the office. Gandalf for once looked stern and punishing, his long arms corralling the younger boys and his eyes betraying nothing of their plan. To a passerby, it would've looked like he was sending them to be punished by Sauron himself. Frodo and Aragorn locked eyes as he passed and Aragorn sent a small flash of a smile in his direction before Frodo disappeared into the office.
"It's on them now," Boromir sighed.
"Yup."
And they fell into silence, each unwilling to express their fears and hopes.
LINE.
Sam was beginning to wonder why he was even here. Frodo and Gimli were hunched over the computer, Frodo's USB hanging from the tower and Gimli's hands directing Frodo's actions. Gandalf, too, was hanging back, standing at the front of Sauron's office, leaning against his cane and staring through the door to the lobby. Frodo was feverishly opening Moria and preparing it for file transfer, listening precisely to Gimli's directions and directing Moria to begin to scavenge the computer for the Ring.
After what seemed like hours, Moria dinged and a notice flashed against the screen, warning them that it had indeed found the selected program and if they continued, all files would be moved from this computer onto Removable Disk A. With shaking hands, Frodo selected "yes" and the transfer began, the tiny little file folder moving back and forth across the screen. Gimli relaxed, smiling to himself in victory. The others, however, were not as hopeful. Sam knew that there was still a ways to go. He didn't know much about computers (or anything for that matter, unless it involved gardening and cooking), but he was fairly certain that it would take a decent amount of time to move the entire program from one computer to another.
A few more minutes dragged on, the little green bar showing the progress of the download was tantalizingly close to being completed. Frodo was still wringing his hands and his eyes were still darting from side to side like a nervous little squirrel. All Sam wanted to do was protect him and never see him like this again, but Frodo had taken up the burden of the Ring and Sam knew that no matter what he said, Frodo would always insist that the Ring was his responsibility. It was just the way he was; Frodo was as stubborn as his uncle and as determined as Aragorn. His friend wasn't the strongest or the most courageous, but Sam had no doubt that with the help of their friends, Frodo would be able to do this, whatever this was going to be.
The computer dinged again and Sam was certain that the little, high ding was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. Closing out of the program, Frodo removed the USB and double-checked to make sure there was no remnant of the Ring or Moria on Sauron's computer. He turned around to leave and gave Sam a weak smile, touching him on the shoulder lightly and gratefully.
Sam's heart lightened. They were done and they were leaving. It was over. They were safe. A feeling of comfort and safety washed over him and his tense shoulders drooped and loosened. But not a second after he had assured himself it was over, his fear sprang back, locking its hard, cold grip around his heart and paralyzing him once more.
Aragorn and Boromir were frantic outside, shouting random words and pounding on the door to the office's lobby, their frantic, afraid expressions seeming so small and far away through the door's window and the glass walls of the main office. Boromir jerked a finger desperately to the left and Sauron suddenly entered the picture, his mouth twisted in a sneer and his voice loud and commanding as he ordered Boromir and Aragorn to disperse.
"Out the window, out the window!" Gandalf finally hissed, hurrying them all toward the window and tearing the blinds up, letting blinding, pure sunlight into the room.
With a mighty heave, Gimli threw open the window and threw a stubby leg over the ledge, dropping to the grass below. Frodo went next, clenching his USB tightly in one hand. Sam didn't think twice about launching himself on the window, landing quite ungracefully next to Frodo. Gandalf threw one, long leg over the side, hissing in pain as his worn joints moved uncomfortably.
"Come on, Mr. Gandalf! You can make it!"
But as soon as the words left Frodo's mouth, the door burst open, the angry voice of Mr. Balrog filling the room. Sam's heart leaped to his throat and he couldn't breathe. They had been caught. Oh, Lord, it was over. Everything was over, school, his friends, the resistance, his life. It was all over. Time seemed to slow, the faces of those around him contorting into the same fear and sickness. But Gandalf was speaking, his own expression resigned and desperate.
"Fly, you fools," he whispered, his voice nothing but a breeze. "Fly."
Aragorn was running towards them suddenly and he scooped Frodo up with one arm, throwing the shocked freshman over his shoulder and running off again, circling behind the school. Boromir and Legolas were with him, Boromir throwing Sam over his shoulder and Legolas grabbing Gimli's hand and tearing off around the school.
As Sam rounded the corner atop Boromir's shoulder, his blonde curls bouncing against his tear-filled eyes and his chest ramming against the junior's broad, muscular shoulder, he watched Balrog remove Gandalf from the ledge with a harsh tug. He slammed the window shut behind him and Sam could only imagine what Sauron was saying now.
Boromir set him down as gently as he could on the dying grass behind the school and then turned away, crossing his arms angrily over his chest and glowering into the distance. Sam leaned against the wall of the school, breathing heavily and letting the tears flow freely. He felt a small yet powerful somebody throw their weight against him in a fierce hug and he opened his eyes to see Frodo embracing him tightly, his own tears streaming down his face as he sobbed desperately into Sam's shirt. Next to him, Merry and Frodo were holding each other as well, Merry doing his best to keep calm and soothe Frodo.
Even Gimli needed the companionship of one of his friends. Boromir had ceased glowering and now had a firm grip on Gimli's shoulders, holding the shorter boy in an awkward yet comforting embrace. Legolas looked like he was in shock, standing next to Aragorn with his mouth open and his graceful brow furrowed.
"We can't stay here," Aragorn said finally, his voice commanding as always but shaking slightly. "We have to go."
"Give them just a moment of rest," Boromir scoffed, gesturing towards the freshmen with sympathy.
Aragorn dipped his gaze, knowing he was about to play devil's advocate. "No. We go now. Come on, I've got my car. I can take us."
Gently, they led the freshmen to Aragorn's Jeep. It was hardly big enough to hold all of them, but everyone wanted to be close now anyway and they managed to cram, Legolas, Gimli, and the freshmen all into the back, while Boromir took the passenger seat and Aragorn drove. He drove with his emotions showing, giving the car way too much gas and maneuvering without thought. Boromir stared out the window the entire car trip and didn't say a word. The freshmen had calmed down considerably, but still held each other in one big hug. Legolas was feeling well enough again to croon the words to one of his Indie songs softly and the words relaxed Gimli into closing his eyes and trying to forget.
They were all trying to forget, to push the thoughts of the inevitable out of their minds. They knew that Gandalf would be gone the next day and would never come back. They knew that Sauron would know the Ring was gone and would blame Gandalf. They knew that he wouldn't be able to find it on him and would begin to search for it. They knew they had to move on and forget if they were going to finish the plan. They had to move on, for Gandalf, for the school, for themselves, for the destruction of the Ring.
It was Frodo who first broke the silence, his voice ragged and tired from crying, but determined and underlined with anger, "Let's finish this."
And they were all in agreement. For Gandalf, for Arnor High, for themselves.
I think I made me a little sad there. Geez, I didn't think writing the firing of Gandalf would be this sad. I know there's still some unanswered questions, but all of those that have arisen this chapter will be answered in the next one. I have the next like seven chapters all planned out, look at me go! Sigh. Gandalf's fall always makes me sad. In my opinion, that's the saddest death in the books. But what do you guys think? Who's death was the worst? Boromir? Theoden? Denethor? The Witch-King (hehe)? Or was the passing of Frodo into the Undying Lands the worst? Let me know if you review!