CHAPTER VI
SACRIFICES- PART I
The capture of Aralokë didn't stop us from saving our city, even if it was an unnerving event. The march to the river Majaju spoke of didn't take that long, and the Beorings and Woodmen greeted us with hospitality. We rode on Beorings (yes- the Beorings transformed into horses so we could move along faster), while the Woodmen were so used to running they ran along with us. The march lasted for an hour before one woodman had to ask the most unwanted question that any traveler could fathom- "are we there yet?"
"Well", I said. "Let's see- the trees are smelling like honeydew, the deer are flocking towards the north side of the trail. We are just a few minutes away from home".
"Finally", said my Beoring horse. "You do not know how much you Elves weigh!" I began to laugh at the humorous comment. Suddenly the skies began to grow lighter, and I saw several watch towers in the distance- we were home.
"We are here", I said, "at the beautiful city of Menegroth." We past by a couple of watchtowers, where we were greeted by the waves of Elvish guards. We strode by the Thirty-Fifth regiment, the traditional battalion of Elvish soldiers that would camp in front of our city in a time of war, and waved at us with great smiles on their face. We rode for a few extra minutes, and suddenly I saw the large towers of Thranduil's palace, and a warm feeling came to my heart- we were home. We rode up towards his palace, but the palace guards halted us.
"We cannot allow all these people to enter the palace at once", said one guard.
"I was just going to enter with Majaju and..."
"Majaju? Who is that?"
"The chieftain of the Woodmen, lieutenant..."
"Woodmen are not allowed in our halls. Only Elves of Menegroth."
"Tell him that Beorn said so", said Beorn from behind. The two elvish guards (who had obviously heard the same childhood stories I had about Beorn the almighty) bowed and opened their arms.
"A friend of Beorn is a friend of me", said the guard. Beorn, Majaju, and I then strolled into the palace, where we found Thranduil sitting on his throne.
"Anganca!" greeted Thranduil. "It is so nice to see you! Who are these people?"
"They are Beorn of the Beorings and Majaju of the Woodmen", I told him. Thranduil, unlike all the other Elves, gave Beorn and Majaju strange looks instead of bowing to them.
"Who are these guests", asked Thranduil.
"This is Beorn of the Beorings and Majaju of the woodmen", I told him. He then looked at me with even more hate in his eyes and tilted his head to his side.
"Why are they in my lair?" asked the king.
"We hope to form an alliance with the great lord", said Beorn, who bowed. Majaju then bowed in suite, but Thranduil still had a troubled look on his face.
"An alliance against what?" asked Thranduil.
"Sir", I told him, "an army of Orcs is marching our way. A Haradrim witch with very potent powers might combine with Necromancer's army and form a hoard greater than any other we have imagined. The Haradrim ambushed us. So few of our men have returned, and we will need all the help we could get."
"Why didn't you consult this with me before taking such actions?" asked Thranduil.
"We thought that the attack might have already come", I told him. "Also, if these rumors are true, we would need every single being we could possibly barter for to help us win Menegroth. Some say they will fight with fire. Others say that Saleme the Red Witch will unleash a force of magic so great that none could stand between her. If that is true, I think my judgment was good". I then laid flat on the ground as a sign of submission, and I tilted my head up ever so slightly to continue my conversation. "If you do not think that was a worthy enough choice for my lordship, then you do not deserve my services." Majaju and Beorn followed suite, and with what I saw I think Thranduil sighed.
"Very well", said Thranduil. "Muster our new troops. We shall be prepared for battle!" My king's remarks caused me to beam, for I had just accomplished my task.
"At once, sir!" I exclaimed. I then shook his hand and turned to Beorn and Majaju, who were also beaming. The hope we had fought so much for had finally come.
Meanwhile, Bungo was sitting on a large wooden bench (he wished it was smaller so his feet could touch the ground) waiting to find something to do. He wanted to fight, but Saleme wouldn't let him because of his size. It became clearer and clearer to him that Saleme has had her way with him and might just dispose him, but Bungo didn't think that was possible. Saleme was too kind of a being to do that. Suddenly, Bungo perked up once two Haradrim soldiers threw Aralokë out of a room, which would give something to do.
"Hello", said Bungo. "How are you?"
"DO YOU THINK I LOOK FINE!" yelled Aralokë, who stared him deep into the eye. Bungo then grimaced at the sight of his face. It was ripped, torn, and both his eyes were heavily bruised, and the Elf was clad in nothing more than a blood-soaked loincloth.
"What happened to you?" asked Bungo.
"WHY DO YOU CARE ABOUT ME ALL OF A SUDDEN?" yelled Aralokë. "They just interrogated me, so that they could get some information. I told them nothing, so they treated me like nothing. I have never felt that bad in my life!"
"I'm sorry to hear that", said Bungo. He wasn't too sorry to see him like that, but he seriously felt a pang of sorrow when he saw the wounded body.
"You are sorry to hear about this", laughed Aralokë. "Why did you sell me to the enemy? Why did you kill all my comrades and the Woodmen to get to me? You feel SORRY?" He then spat at the Hobbit, and the spittle hit the Hobbit in the eyes. Aralokë had learned the art of spitting when he was an adolescent, and he had rarely had time to use it. Bungo then took what Aralokë had said to his heart. Mabey he shouldn't have done the wrong things he had done for money. Maybe he deserved to be banished into the Void instead of going to the halls of Mandos. However, he did need the money.
"Maybe the dark lord will be kind to you and send you to the Halls of Mandos", said Bungo.
"Sure", said Aralokë. "The dark lord will spare me by sucking the soul out of me in a painful way and then send it to the Halls of Mandos like a good man."
"It's your fault that you defied his commands", said Bungo.
"Let me tell you something", said Aralokë. "After Saleme uses her magic to destroy the world of the Elves, those who helped her will not be spared. Not even Saleme will be spared. The dark lord will have complete control over all of Middle-Earth. You will all become his slaves. He will have no allies, because he won't need any. He is the sole ruler of the universe and no one will be spared! Remember that!" Suddenly, two Haradrim guards lifted up Aralokë and began dragging him.
"What are you doing!" yelled Bungo. Now he was angry. The guards were being cruel to him and his suspicions about Saleme were becoming true.
"We are to drain him of his blood", said one guard. "Saleme requires it".
"Fine then", said Bungo. The guards then continued to drag him to another room- the Church. As Bungo heard Aralokë's cries of pain, he thought of how to make Saleme pay for treating him like a Mûmakil.
SACRIFICES- PART I
The capture of Aralokë didn't stop us from saving our city, even if it was an unnerving event. The march to the river Majaju spoke of didn't take that long, and the Beorings and Woodmen greeted us with hospitality. We rode on Beorings (yes- the Beorings transformed into horses so we could move along faster), while the Woodmen were so used to running they ran along with us. The march lasted for an hour before one woodman had to ask the most unwanted question that any traveler could fathom- "are we there yet?"
"Well", I said. "Let's see- the trees are smelling like honeydew, the deer are flocking towards the north side of the trail. We are just a few minutes away from home".
"Finally", said my Beoring horse. "You do not know how much you Elves weigh!" I began to laugh at the humorous comment. Suddenly the skies began to grow lighter, and I saw several watch towers in the distance- we were home.
"We are here", I said, "at the beautiful city of Menegroth." We past by a couple of watchtowers, where we were greeted by the waves of Elvish guards. We strode by the Thirty-Fifth regiment, the traditional battalion of Elvish soldiers that would camp in front of our city in a time of war, and waved at us with great smiles on their face. We rode for a few extra minutes, and suddenly I saw the large towers of Thranduil's palace, and a warm feeling came to my heart- we were home. We rode up towards his palace, but the palace guards halted us.
"We cannot allow all these people to enter the palace at once", said one guard.
"I was just going to enter with Majaju and..."
"Majaju? Who is that?"
"The chieftain of the Woodmen, lieutenant..."
"Woodmen are not allowed in our halls. Only Elves of Menegroth."
"Tell him that Beorn said so", said Beorn from behind. The two elvish guards (who had obviously heard the same childhood stories I had about Beorn the almighty) bowed and opened their arms.
"A friend of Beorn is a friend of me", said the guard. Beorn, Majaju, and I then strolled into the palace, where we found Thranduil sitting on his throne.
"Anganca!" greeted Thranduil. "It is so nice to see you! Who are these people?"
"They are Beorn of the Beorings and Majaju of the Woodmen", I told him. Thranduil, unlike all the other Elves, gave Beorn and Majaju strange looks instead of bowing to them.
"Who are these guests", asked Thranduil.
"This is Beorn of the Beorings and Majaju of the woodmen", I told him. He then looked at me with even more hate in his eyes and tilted his head to his side.
"Why are they in my lair?" asked the king.
"We hope to form an alliance with the great lord", said Beorn, who bowed. Majaju then bowed in suite, but Thranduil still had a troubled look on his face.
"An alliance against what?" asked Thranduil.
"Sir", I told him, "an army of Orcs is marching our way. A Haradrim witch with very potent powers might combine with Necromancer's army and form a hoard greater than any other we have imagined. The Haradrim ambushed us. So few of our men have returned, and we will need all the help we could get."
"Why didn't you consult this with me before taking such actions?" asked Thranduil.
"We thought that the attack might have already come", I told him. "Also, if these rumors are true, we would need every single being we could possibly barter for to help us win Menegroth. Some say they will fight with fire. Others say that Saleme the Red Witch will unleash a force of magic so great that none could stand between her. If that is true, I think my judgment was good". I then laid flat on the ground as a sign of submission, and I tilted my head up ever so slightly to continue my conversation. "If you do not think that was a worthy enough choice for my lordship, then you do not deserve my services." Majaju and Beorn followed suite, and with what I saw I think Thranduil sighed.
"Very well", said Thranduil. "Muster our new troops. We shall be prepared for battle!" My king's remarks caused me to beam, for I had just accomplished my task.
"At once, sir!" I exclaimed. I then shook his hand and turned to Beorn and Majaju, who were also beaming. The hope we had fought so much for had finally come.
Meanwhile, Bungo was sitting on a large wooden bench (he wished it was smaller so his feet could touch the ground) waiting to find something to do. He wanted to fight, but Saleme wouldn't let him because of his size. It became clearer and clearer to him that Saleme has had her way with him and might just dispose him, but Bungo didn't think that was possible. Saleme was too kind of a being to do that. Suddenly, Bungo perked up once two Haradrim soldiers threw Aralokë out of a room, which would give something to do.
"Hello", said Bungo. "How are you?"
"DO YOU THINK I LOOK FINE!" yelled Aralokë, who stared him deep into the eye. Bungo then grimaced at the sight of his face. It was ripped, torn, and both his eyes were heavily bruised, and the Elf was clad in nothing more than a blood-soaked loincloth.
"What happened to you?" asked Bungo.
"WHY DO YOU CARE ABOUT ME ALL OF A SUDDEN?" yelled Aralokë. "They just interrogated me, so that they could get some information. I told them nothing, so they treated me like nothing. I have never felt that bad in my life!"
"I'm sorry to hear that", said Bungo. He wasn't too sorry to see him like that, but he seriously felt a pang of sorrow when he saw the wounded body.
"You are sorry to hear about this", laughed Aralokë. "Why did you sell me to the enemy? Why did you kill all my comrades and the Woodmen to get to me? You feel SORRY?" He then spat at the Hobbit, and the spittle hit the Hobbit in the eyes. Aralokë had learned the art of spitting when he was an adolescent, and he had rarely had time to use it. Bungo then took what Aralokë had said to his heart. Mabey he shouldn't have done the wrong things he had done for money. Maybe he deserved to be banished into the Void instead of going to the halls of Mandos. However, he did need the money.
"Maybe the dark lord will be kind to you and send you to the Halls of Mandos", said Bungo.
"Sure", said Aralokë. "The dark lord will spare me by sucking the soul out of me in a painful way and then send it to the Halls of Mandos like a good man."
"It's your fault that you defied his commands", said Bungo.
"Let me tell you something", said Aralokë. "After Saleme uses her magic to destroy the world of the Elves, those who helped her will not be spared. Not even Saleme will be spared. The dark lord will have complete control over all of Middle-Earth. You will all become his slaves. He will have no allies, because he won't need any. He is the sole ruler of the universe and no one will be spared! Remember that!" Suddenly, two Haradrim guards lifted up Aralokë and began dragging him.
"What are you doing!" yelled Bungo. Now he was angry. The guards were being cruel to him and his suspicions about Saleme were becoming true.
"We are to drain him of his blood", said one guard. "Saleme requires it".
"Fine then", said Bungo. The guards then continued to drag him to another room- the Church. As Bungo heard Aralokë's cries of pain, he thought of how to make Saleme pay for treating him like a Mûmakil.