CHAPTER IV
THE SECOND TO LAST ALLIANCE
"My lord", I said as I saw Beorn. I then bowed down and made sure my nose touch the ground. "Forgive me for my arrogance.
"There's no need for that!" exclaimed Beorn with a belly laugh. "Now get off that silly ground!" I slithered my way back up, but then saluted Beorn. I couldn't help but admire him. The Istari were the only people in Middle-Earth who knew of and respected Beorn, but we were the only ones who idolized him. Ever since he saved a child from our land from an Orc squadron many years ago, he has become a legend inside our walls. My parents told me stories of the great Beorn and his simple but grad adventures, and I would like to tell those stories to my children, if I ever find a worth maiden. However, Beorn seemed to think this was silly and forced my hand down.
"Stop that!" laughed Beorn. "You're making me embarrassed. You wouldn't want to do that to me, now would 'ya?"
"No, my lord", I replied.
"Stop with all the fancy aristocrat talk. Just think of me as another being with no more importance in this world at the rock that just stubbed my toe. Is it that hard?"
"Well, you're kind of like a legend in our land. You do live next to our land, after all". Suddenly, Beorn began to laugh so hard that it gave me a headache. He was tramping around the village laughing his head off, but finally stopped when I came to his senses.
"A legend, huh? I can accept that. Now where were we? Oh yes! My woodman friend here and I were talking before we were ambushed."
"We thanks you greatly, by the way", said a woodman. Now, this was no ordinary woodman. He was tall, yes, but he was very fat, stout, and highly decorated. "I am Majaju, Baron of this village. Beorn and I were just talking about an alliance between our peoples."
"You're welcome about the help?" I said, "but an alliance?"
"Yes", said Beorn. "Between the Beorings, the Woodmen, and the Elves."
"I am in no position to declare such an alliance", I replied.
"You are a commander, are you not?" added Majaju.
"Yes, but of a battalion", I said. "I thought there was only one Beoring."
"Me?" replied a shocked Beorn. "No! More than one!"
"Why don't we just go inside?" asked Majaju. He then led us to a large tent, which was probably his. The Tent was guarded by two woodmen, and Majaju signaled them to sit down at a large, round table in the center.
"My army and the woodmen army have their camp set up at a river ten miles from this village", said Beorn. "If you agree to form this alliance, we will meet up with them at that river and then march as fast as mortally possible to Menegroth."
"Everything depends on your choice", said Majaju. "Just write your name on this line". He then handed me a paper and a pan. I did not know what to do. I was in no position to sign the paper, and Thranduil might get mad if I made the wrong choice. Yet, Menegroth might be in trouble, and would need all the help they could get. The two sides of my mind had an epic battle at that moment, but it didn't take to long to end the war. I picked up the piece of paper, and began to write my name on the line Majaju designated.
Meanwhile, Aralokë was sitting on a large rock, staring at his sword, which was covered in blood, for it had killed many a Haradrim that day. He then felt a swat on his back and swung around trying to slash at the attacker, but saw that it was just a simple woodman.
"Hello buddy", said the woodman.
"Hi", said Aralokë.
"Do you know a buddy by the name o' Bungo?" asked the Woodman in his high-pitched accent.
"Bungo!" he exclaimed. "Is he really short? Does he have armor on, except for his hairy feet, which are barefoot?"
"YES!" exclaimed the woodman.
"I know him", said Aralokë, who was really giddy inside. He had thought his halfling friend had died in the ambush. Now, he had learned he was still alive, and he was desperate to have one of his friends undamaged for a change. "Is he here?"
"Not exactly. I found a note on the ground. Why don't you read it?" He then took the paper from the lanky being and opened it up, and found a note written in red ink, which looked almost like blood.
"If you want the halfling back", said the note, "come to the top of the north hill when the moon touches the big Malorn tree. Tell no one, or the hobbit will have a worse fate than death". Aralokë immediately made his decision on the note. He wouldn't have believed the note at first, but his instinct told him that he had to save his hobbit friend, so he made his decision.
"Thank you", said Aralokë. He would save Bungo no matter what the cost. As he was leaving, the Woodman walked off into the woods and began snickering while juggling an apple.
"All too easy".
THE SECOND TO LAST ALLIANCE
"My lord", I said as I saw Beorn. I then bowed down and made sure my nose touch the ground. "Forgive me for my arrogance.
"There's no need for that!" exclaimed Beorn with a belly laugh. "Now get off that silly ground!" I slithered my way back up, but then saluted Beorn. I couldn't help but admire him. The Istari were the only people in Middle-Earth who knew of and respected Beorn, but we were the only ones who idolized him. Ever since he saved a child from our land from an Orc squadron many years ago, he has become a legend inside our walls. My parents told me stories of the great Beorn and his simple but grad adventures, and I would like to tell those stories to my children, if I ever find a worth maiden. However, Beorn seemed to think this was silly and forced my hand down.
"Stop that!" laughed Beorn. "You're making me embarrassed. You wouldn't want to do that to me, now would 'ya?"
"No, my lord", I replied.
"Stop with all the fancy aristocrat talk. Just think of me as another being with no more importance in this world at the rock that just stubbed my toe. Is it that hard?"
"Well, you're kind of like a legend in our land. You do live next to our land, after all". Suddenly, Beorn began to laugh so hard that it gave me a headache. He was tramping around the village laughing his head off, but finally stopped when I came to his senses.
"A legend, huh? I can accept that. Now where were we? Oh yes! My woodman friend here and I were talking before we were ambushed."
"We thanks you greatly, by the way", said a woodman. Now, this was no ordinary woodman. He was tall, yes, but he was very fat, stout, and highly decorated. "I am Majaju, Baron of this village. Beorn and I were just talking about an alliance between our peoples."
"You're welcome about the help?" I said, "but an alliance?"
"Yes", said Beorn. "Between the Beorings, the Woodmen, and the Elves."
"I am in no position to declare such an alliance", I replied.
"You are a commander, are you not?" added Majaju.
"Yes, but of a battalion", I said. "I thought there was only one Beoring."
"Me?" replied a shocked Beorn. "No! More than one!"
"Why don't we just go inside?" asked Majaju. He then led us to a large tent, which was probably his. The Tent was guarded by two woodmen, and Majaju signaled them to sit down at a large, round table in the center.
"My army and the woodmen army have their camp set up at a river ten miles from this village", said Beorn. "If you agree to form this alliance, we will meet up with them at that river and then march as fast as mortally possible to Menegroth."
"Everything depends on your choice", said Majaju. "Just write your name on this line". He then handed me a paper and a pan. I did not know what to do. I was in no position to sign the paper, and Thranduil might get mad if I made the wrong choice. Yet, Menegroth might be in trouble, and would need all the help they could get. The two sides of my mind had an epic battle at that moment, but it didn't take to long to end the war. I picked up the piece of paper, and began to write my name on the line Majaju designated.
Meanwhile, Aralokë was sitting on a large rock, staring at his sword, which was covered in blood, for it had killed many a Haradrim that day. He then felt a swat on his back and swung around trying to slash at the attacker, but saw that it was just a simple woodman.
"Hello buddy", said the woodman.
"Hi", said Aralokë.
"Do you know a buddy by the name o' Bungo?" asked the Woodman in his high-pitched accent.
"Bungo!" he exclaimed. "Is he really short? Does he have armor on, except for his hairy feet, which are barefoot?"
"YES!" exclaimed the woodman.
"I know him", said Aralokë, who was really giddy inside. He had thought his halfling friend had died in the ambush. Now, he had learned he was still alive, and he was desperate to have one of his friends undamaged for a change. "Is he here?"
"Not exactly. I found a note on the ground. Why don't you read it?" He then took the paper from the lanky being and opened it up, and found a note written in red ink, which looked almost like blood.
"If you want the halfling back", said the note, "come to the top of the north hill when the moon touches the big Malorn tree. Tell no one, or the hobbit will have a worse fate than death". Aralokë immediately made his decision on the note. He wouldn't have believed the note at first, but his instinct told him that he had to save his hobbit friend, so he made his decision.
"Thank you", said Aralokë. He would save Bungo no matter what the cost. As he was leaving, the Woodman walked off into the woods and began snickering while juggling an apple.
"All too easy".