When I was very young, I believed in angles. You know, the kind with startlingly white feathered wings and aura's of warm gold. The kind that will watch over you and keep you safe from harm, no matter where you are or what you've done. Sometimes, when I was on the battle field, I would wish I could go back to that state of mind and have that kind of blind faith again. But as time went by, the faith dissolved away with the blood I washed off my hands every night.
I can pinpoint the exact moment when I entirely gave up my childhood love for angels. It was a routine crash and smash. We had to enter the building, download the files on the Kluck computer system, steal anything worth having and leave. I was assigned to be the one who downloaded the files while the others secured the building and nicked weapons off any of the dead guards. I had popped the disk into the tower, trained to get in and get out within minutes. I watched as the figures flickered past the screen as they were downloaded onto the disk, though my eyes couldn't focus on anything in particular. When the job was done, I did as instructed and after I removed the disk, I shot the computer and left with my team.
Arriving at head quarters I handed the disk over to the computer geeks like a good little soldier, and I was allowed to wait in the our computer filing room while the new information was sifted through…it was there that I saw The File. It contained all the names, ranks and ID numbers of all the soldiers who died. See, the chip in our wrists weren't just to make it easy to check for survivors. After your pulse stopped, the chip sent out a signal to the main computer and the data in the chip was stored, so that The Free Countries Alliance would have exact figures on the number of people still around. I looked around, making sure nobody was paying any attention to me, and I sat down in trepidation. My hands shook as I typed in the names of anyone who had meant something to me, waiting to see whether they were alive or dead. The search took a couple of minutes, and those minutes were the longest in my entire life. The agony of waiting soon melted into the agony of knowing what I had dreaded for so long. My family were dead.
I left the computer numb and empty. It was as though someone had destroyed the little part of me that still believed things might go back to normal—one day.
My soul was screaming.
A technician glanced up at me with a disdainful sneer and said, "Fucking grunt. You guys think you're so tough out there, fighting the good fight. We all know it though. The Free Countries are screwed." He turned away and continued his work as I stumbled away, my head reeling. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small silver medallion with an angel onto it's surface with the word "Hope" inscribed on the back in capital letters. I glanced back at the computer room and decidedly threw the angel into the mud, striding away without looking back.
When I got sick on the ship to England, Leith had prayed. I heard him through his tears, mumbling quiet prayers and promises at my bedside – begging a Being I didn't believe in to spare me. Afterwards, I asked him why. He told me it was because he believed that there was a grand scheme of things. That everything we did was for a greater purpose, and that he thought I was destined for more than to die on some ratty old ship. Destiny. A greater good.
The day we rode into Isenguard, I longed to hear him say those words again. I felt strange and unsettled, my hands clammy and my skin pale from the very moment we rode through the flooded gates. I hid it as best I could, laughing with the others when we met Merry and Pippin at the gate. I was introduced to them by Aragorn … nothing was mentioned of my real gender. I honestly think it was for the best. The Ents were amazing, if not a little intimidating with their huge booming voices and gnarled branches. I settled myself on a rock, my thoughts drifting as Merry and Pippin talked excitedly with the rest.
My eyes drifted aimlessly across the surface of the stagnant water on the ground, absently wondering what lay beneath. I could make out the shapes of several jagged swords, some supplies, and I'm sure I even spotted a coin or two, glinting in the sunlight. Whether it was the sun, or the lack of sleep I had been getting I'm not sure, but I suddenly felt exhausted. My eye lids heavy and my movements much clumsier than usual. Haldir noticed, of course.
"You need sleep." He commented wryly, though his eyes were filled with concern. I waved him off, shaking my head and muttering disjointed sentences about 'Fuckin' Elves think everyone's tired and inferior'. He was Not Very Impressed At All. "Confounding, stubborn creature! Do you always refuse to listen to reason?" He snapped, frowning at me.
"No, not always." I replied irritably, turning so my back was facing him. I heard a sharp sigh and nothing more. Which, in itself, was extremely annoying. You can never quite be sure whether an Elf has buggered off or not, because they tend to walk silently. I eventually looked back and was relieved to find he had gone.
Stifling a yawn, I shook myself and snuck away from the group, wading through the chest deep, freezing water silently until I reached the entrance to the tower. I hesitated, wondering what I should do. I knew Saruman's Book of Power must be hidden inside, but the trouble was: How to find it?
The place was obviously massive, and most of the great, heavy stone doors were locked. So. I knew it would be like finding a needle in the largest bloody haystack known to mankind. Normally, I would have given up at the mere prospect (because if you haven't realised already, I'm not the most patient person), but giving up was not an option. Because this needle in a haystack, was a pretty important fucking needle.
I shivered when I finally found my way inside, half from the cold and half because I was afraid. I have stood in the face of armies and monsters without the batter of an eyelid … but that place. That place scared me beyond belief. There was a cold, cruel threat about the long empty halls that sent a chill down my spine. I felt … exposed. As though I was standing in an lift filled with camera's and there was no way out.
My boots clicked on the marble floors and I could hear my breathing echo about me, occasionally hitching when I turned a corner and raised my gun. Just in case.
Inevitably, my teeth began to chatter with the cold air hitting my drenched skin, and I sat down with a squelch. I licked my lips and leaned back against the cool marble, my eyes shutting. It felt as though I was being shoved to the floor, like I was carrying a weight up hill. I forced myself to get up, stumbling slightly as I wearily checked room after room, my eyes scanning the walls to look for cracks or signs of a hidden opening. I climbed and climbed the endless flights of stairs, pausing only to check a room or catch my breath. But I knew it was hopeless.
"I never thought the day would come when a fool enters my home alone, without permission, and fumbles through my belongings with the grace and stealth of a mountain troll." A deep voice mocked, coming from all around me. I spun on my heel and looked around for the owner of the voice, my senses screaming with fear and apprehension.
"These are no longer your possessions. You are a prisoner of your own keep." I shouted, sneering, though my heart was banging in my chest a mile a minute.
"Insolent child. You would do to learn some respect." The voice said, laughing a brittle laugh. I cocked my head to one side,
"I have no respect for a pawn of Sauron's." I said cheekily, my hands shaking very slightly as I backed up against a wall, my keen eyes searching desperately for Saruman. I couldn't hurt what I couldn't see, therefore, I was vulnerable.
And he knew that.
"Come out and face me like a man!" I shouted, my nerves grating. Another laugh came, this one wild and not quite sane.
"But I am no man! I am a Wizard, child! I am Saruman of Many Colours. I have surpassed the power of any other!" I licked my lips nervously, but forced myself to smirk.
"Then why have you been defeated? Tell me where you hide your Book of Power, and I shall spare you the fate I bestowed upon your old servant, Grima Wormtongue." I said, my fingers twitching in front of the trigger. There was a long silence and then I heard a door slam from above me. I jumped,
"Come and retrieve it, then, brave warrior! Prove to me that you are more than a clumsy fool! I should be surprised if you do!" Saruman mocked. I set my jaw and rolled my shoulders before marching up the steps, boots clicking with each step that I knew could be my last. Click, click, click …
I finally reached a door made of thick, black stone, open just wide enough for me to squeeze through. I sighed and flexed the tense muscles in my back, weighing my options. I was probably walking into a trap, that much was certain. But without his help, it was doubtful that I would ever manage to complete my task.
So it was: Walk into a trap and most likely die or Don't walk into a trap and never find out where the book that will destroy humanity is.
I set my jaw, coming to a decision that would most likely, result in my death. I prepared myself to bust in, my lips moving silently in a prayer. Something I hadn't done since the start of the war. 'Please, I know you're up there. Help me do this.' I thought, gritting my teeth.
I gave out a strangled yelp when my gun was tugged from my grip by unseen hands, and my feet were knocked from under me. I struggled to get back to my feet, but my ears were filled with high pitched screaming and I began to crumpled to ground with the agony, covering my ears with my hands. It was no use. The unearthly scream continued and I felt myself being dragged up the steps, my body bruising and my bones rattling in protest.
For the first time, I was helpless. I had stupidly gone up there alone, without a properly formed plan … and I was going to get what was coming to me.
Finally, the painful sound stopped, but I could still hear someone's screams. It was a while before I realised that it was me. I was shaking uncontrollably and I felt a trickle of blood dribble down my face from my ear. Before me stood a man dressed all in white, his old face cruel, his mouth uttering words so foul and terrible that the sky had darkened. I tried to speak but my throat was raw and red, and there was spit and blood all over my chin from the effort. I was done for.
I frantically scanned the area around me and realised I was miles from the ground on a platform, in the sky. There was no possible escape. I looked back up into Saruman's wild eyes, my stomach plummeting. I tried to scoot backwards towards the pillars on each side. Maybe I could hide behind it or …
"So this is the mighty warrior. The saviour of Rohan, reduced to a snivelling child." He sneered, waving his staff so that I was immobile. Through the blood and the pain, I managed one word.
"Coward." His face twisted with fury and he raised his staff. I prepared for the final blow, but I didn't shut my eyes. I wouldn't go down hiding.
There was a great flash and thud, then I heard something rolling across the platform and dropping into the water below us. I managed to force myself to lift my head just in time to see the orb that had been in Saruman's staff being picked up by Pippin below us. Gandalf looked up, straight into the eyes of Saruman. Saruman ran to the edge, his hands outstretched for the orb, his back turned to me for the first time.
Using all the strength I had left, I cried out, letting the pain and anguish in my voice slice through the oppressive stillness. There was a commotion below us, with people crying out my name. Saruman turned, seeming to remember I was there.
"You want the Book from me now, yes I foresee it. You wish to stop what will be, to change the path that has been set." He said, his voice calm and thoughtful … sane even.
'Tell me where it is.' I mouthed to him, my eyes defiant and angry. He smiled at me, a chilling, awful smile and he moved towards the edge of the roof. The voices were closer now, I could hear them coming up the steps, running towards us. Just a little longer …
"I shall perish before I watch you alter what I have worked so hard for." Saruman said, his foot half off the side. I reached out, shaking my head violently.
I was too late.
He fell down, tearing through the air at a frightening pace before I heard the ominous splash far below us.
"Faith!" Someone was at my side, holding my hand tightly. "You are safe now, Mellon. You are safe." Haldir said, hooking an arm under my neck and allowing me to sit up a little. I looked up into his deep blue eyes, a single tear running down my cheek.
"All hope is lost. I failed." I whispered. Haldir looked confused for a moment, and he moved away when Gandalf sat by me.
"You did not fail. Had you not entered, I would not have followed, so I would never have seen the markings on the floor. I shall tell you more of such matters later. But be assured, I know of the whereabouts of a certain Book." He said, his wise grey eyes glittering slightly. "Rest." He said, laying a warm hand over my eyes.
I did.