"So, now what?" I asked Mirwold/Bob.
"What do you mean, now what?"
"Well, for one thing, do I call you Bob now?"
"No!" shouted Mirwold, turning around suddenly to look straight at me, "Do NOT call me Bob! Whatever you do, do not call me Bob!"
"Because you don't want anyone else finding out who you are?"
Mirwold blinked several times before realizing that he and I were riding on slightly different trains of thought. "Not exactly," he began, temporarily calmer, "It's just - how can I say this - I hate my name. I mean, who names their kid Bob? No one! They name them nice, normal things like Mordil or Mithrog. Everyone was always, oooh, it's so original, be proud to stand out, and I was all, why does HE get to be Sauron and have the evil name and be the cool body part and do all the fun stuff and not me?" He was a little scary when he was ranting.
"So you're going to Mordor now?" I asked in an attempt to distract him.
"Well, it's not like I can say no," pointed out Mirwold. "It wouldn't make me very popular down at Barad-dûr. But right now, you and I are going to Esgaroth, where we'll be able to prepare properly for our journey."
"Why did you say 'we'?" I demanded suspiciously. Maybe he was affected by a Gollum-complex or something. One of those side effects of Rings of Power written in fine print at the bottom of the contract.
"I said we because you, Candace, are coming with me."
"To Mordor?"
"Of course! Brilliant idea, isn't it?" smiled Mirwold. "No one will ever suspect me of evil motives while traveling through Gondorian-held territory if I have a woman with me!"
"Is that what people think around here, then?" I coughed. "You know, that's not the first thing that would come to mind for most people I know."
"Oh, come on! It'll be fun!" Mirwold said encouragingly. "I know that you'll slow me down and everything and be a huge nuisance the whole way, but really, who in his right mind wants to hurry to Mordor? And just think, it'll be a great cover story when Sauron demands what took me so long."
"Look, Bo- Mirwold, I hate to say this, but being the Dark Lord's wrath-object has never been one of my career goals."
"Well, Candace, I hate to say this myself, but you don't really have a choice in this. I may not be the greatest Maia that ever lived, but I'm still way, way more powerful than you puny mortals. And I would like to take the opportunity to point out that I am the only one of this little group here who knows the way out of this place. Besides, just between us, you and I know that your subliminal desire to get my ring again would prevent you from ever leaving me, because you think that it's the only way for you to get back to your home."
Oh. That had never occurred to me before. "Are you sure you couldn't just drop me off with the Elves on the way?" I pleaded, but it was a half- hearted attempt. I was busy making the mistake of looking Mirwold in the eyes, something you should never do when the eyes that you are looking at belong to an immortal being who is currently disguised as a tall, hot Ranger. There was something about those eyes that made me wonder how I could ever have believed that he was human. They were bottomless in their grey depths, as if one could stare at them for a lifetime and still barely skim the surface of the memories they saw. They were lit with the light of a thousand thousand summers, and yet there was sorrow there too, great sorrow. Wisdom there was, and knowledge. These were not the eyes of someone who would ever want to deceive me, the kind of eyes that you could trust with pets and small children - and I was definitely being hypnotized or something.
"Fine!" I muttered grumpily after realizing that there really was no winning a battle with Mirwold once he had decided its outcome. "But you have to promise to teach me self-defense and Westron first."
"Normally I'd say no and laugh in your face, but under the circumstances..." Mirwold mused. "Yes, I think you should learn Westron, if for no other reason than the off chance that those ignoramuses from Gondor mistake your English for Black Speech or something equally ridiculous. Honestly, the quality of Rangers these days! It makes you wonder what they teach them in school. But they'll be just stupid enough to catch the mysteriousness of your accent and believe me when I tell them that you're from slightly west of the Mist Mountains and speak but little of the Common Tongue..." An evil grin spread across his face. "I can just see it now."
Vaguely I wondered what he was talking about. It was only later, as I walked down the path leading to Esgaroth under the full load of Englas and Fadrornion's discarded luggage that the horror of the situation truly hit me. I began to wonder if there was some way that I could get the ring away from Mirwold without him noticing. "A very strong person could bend it to his or her will," Mirwold had said. I had just survived three days in the middle of a large wilderness with him. Surely that counted for something.
"What do you mean, now what?"
"Well, for one thing, do I call you Bob now?"
"No!" shouted Mirwold, turning around suddenly to look straight at me, "Do NOT call me Bob! Whatever you do, do not call me Bob!"
"Because you don't want anyone else finding out who you are?"
Mirwold blinked several times before realizing that he and I were riding on slightly different trains of thought. "Not exactly," he began, temporarily calmer, "It's just - how can I say this - I hate my name. I mean, who names their kid Bob? No one! They name them nice, normal things like Mordil or Mithrog. Everyone was always, oooh, it's so original, be proud to stand out, and I was all, why does HE get to be Sauron and have the evil name and be the cool body part and do all the fun stuff and not me?" He was a little scary when he was ranting.
"So you're going to Mordor now?" I asked in an attempt to distract him.
"Well, it's not like I can say no," pointed out Mirwold. "It wouldn't make me very popular down at Barad-dûr. But right now, you and I are going to Esgaroth, where we'll be able to prepare properly for our journey."
"Why did you say 'we'?" I demanded suspiciously. Maybe he was affected by a Gollum-complex or something. One of those side effects of Rings of Power written in fine print at the bottom of the contract.
"I said we because you, Candace, are coming with me."
"To Mordor?"
"Of course! Brilliant idea, isn't it?" smiled Mirwold. "No one will ever suspect me of evil motives while traveling through Gondorian-held territory if I have a woman with me!"
"Is that what people think around here, then?" I coughed. "You know, that's not the first thing that would come to mind for most people I know."
"Oh, come on! It'll be fun!" Mirwold said encouragingly. "I know that you'll slow me down and everything and be a huge nuisance the whole way, but really, who in his right mind wants to hurry to Mordor? And just think, it'll be a great cover story when Sauron demands what took me so long."
"Look, Bo- Mirwold, I hate to say this, but being the Dark Lord's wrath-object has never been one of my career goals."
"Well, Candace, I hate to say this myself, but you don't really have a choice in this. I may not be the greatest Maia that ever lived, but I'm still way, way more powerful than you puny mortals. And I would like to take the opportunity to point out that I am the only one of this little group here who knows the way out of this place. Besides, just between us, you and I know that your subliminal desire to get my ring again would prevent you from ever leaving me, because you think that it's the only way for you to get back to your home."
Oh. That had never occurred to me before. "Are you sure you couldn't just drop me off with the Elves on the way?" I pleaded, but it was a half- hearted attempt. I was busy making the mistake of looking Mirwold in the eyes, something you should never do when the eyes that you are looking at belong to an immortal being who is currently disguised as a tall, hot Ranger. There was something about those eyes that made me wonder how I could ever have believed that he was human. They were bottomless in their grey depths, as if one could stare at them for a lifetime and still barely skim the surface of the memories they saw. They were lit with the light of a thousand thousand summers, and yet there was sorrow there too, great sorrow. Wisdom there was, and knowledge. These were not the eyes of someone who would ever want to deceive me, the kind of eyes that you could trust with pets and small children - and I was definitely being hypnotized or something.
"Fine!" I muttered grumpily after realizing that there really was no winning a battle with Mirwold once he had decided its outcome. "But you have to promise to teach me self-defense and Westron first."
"Normally I'd say no and laugh in your face, but under the circumstances..." Mirwold mused. "Yes, I think you should learn Westron, if for no other reason than the off chance that those ignoramuses from Gondor mistake your English for Black Speech or something equally ridiculous. Honestly, the quality of Rangers these days! It makes you wonder what they teach them in school. But they'll be just stupid enough to catch the mysteriousness of your accent and believe me when I tell them that you're from slightly west of the Mist Mountains and speak but little of the Common Tongue..." An evil grin spread across his face. "I can just see it now."
Vaguely I wondered what he was talking about. It was only later, as I walked down the path leading to Esgaroth under the full load of Englas and Fadrornion's discarded luggage that the horror of the situation truly hit me. I began to wonder if there was some way that I could get the ring away from Mirwold without him noticing. "A very strong person could bend it to his or her will," Mirwold had said. I had just survived three days in the middle of a large wilderness with him. Surely that counted for something.