Chapter 2; A Conspiracy Unmasked
I woke up in a dark room cold and drenched from the rain. I looked around and saw two huge wooden doors on opposite sides of the room. I ran to one and shook it with all my strength, but it didn't open; so I ran to the second and did the same, but it was locked too. I suddenly heard the creaking of wood behind me; I jumped and turned around quickly putting my back to the door I had just tried to open. There in front of one of the windows was a long wooden table piled with what seemed to be hundreds of books.
Books! I thought, Maybe I can find something there! I scrambled through them, looking for any clue that could tell me where I was, I looked at the first book I could grab; it was a normal book, but when I opened it, the pages weren't written in English, or any other recognizable language I've ever seen, they looked like scribbles and scratches on the pages. I threw down the book in my hand out of anger and slammed my fists on the table. Wait, when you dream, you dream with your left-brain, I thought to my self then finished out loud,
"…And reading is in your right brain so you can't read in dreams! Right?"
At that moment, I heard pounding feet and clanging metal outside the doors. I stood in silence and listened to the oncoming clatter. With each passing moment, the clamor was becoming louder and louder; it was approaching. I sprinted about, grabbing everything I could, and threw it all against one of the two doors: books, chairs, and finally the table itself. I then faced the other door and slung my bag over my shoulder. Instead of just feet, I could now hear high-pitched screeches and cries coming from the other side of the doors; whatever it was making the noise was right outside the doors, and not human. At that moment, I heard a large 'boom' from the door behind me, and the door in front of me flew open. I gasped in shock at what I saw, there were fifteen or maybe twenty mutated, goblin looking creatures charging into the room with crude swords and shields. Their skin was dark and grimy, and their eyes were bloodshot; I stood tall and held onto my bag tight as I saw one charge at me with a sword held high.
I swung my heavy Taekwondo bag at him and it connected squarely with its side sending him flying against a wall, then I swung my bag again at the next one that came. The thing hit the ground hard as he collapsed in front of me; I dropped my bag and grabbed its sword as I looked up and saw one of them swing a sword at me. I blocked it, kicked it under its chin then slammed my foot into the side of its fat, ugly head. He fell, causing another one behind him to trip. The booming from the door behind me was getting louder and I could hear the table sliding across the floor. The sword I had was becoming useless; I didn't know how to use it, so it was little help. At that moment, the door behind me flew open and twenty more vile things came leaping and crawling over the table.
As I turned my head to look, a pair of heavily armored arms grabbed my mine and twisted them behind my back. I dropped the sword I held and cried out in pain as the cold metal armor touched my skin and the thing's nails pierced my arms. I then felt another pair of clawed hands turn me around force me to bend over in a bowing position. All the creatures stopped making noise and all I could hear was their heavy breathing. The sound of a stone rod on tile and footsteps replaced the cries and drowned out the breathing. One of the hands on my back held my head down, and gripped my ponytail; I couldn't see much but the bottom of a white robe.
"A woman? The dark lord asked me to send him this?" An old voice said. The hand on the back of my head then gripped my ponytail and pulled it up so I could look at the elderly man. The man in white was an old man; he had a long white beard at the bottom of his long pale face and in is hands he held a black staff and a white book. He looked down at me condescendingly and sneered. "Although, she isdressed in strange clothing." He must have meant my white Taekwondo uniform. Suddenly rage boiled up in me and I asked angrily,
"Where am I?! Who are you people?!" I soon paid for my angry outburst for the hand that held the back of my ponytail let go then punched my face hard. I felt the metal tear the skin on my face as the armored fist connected with my cheekbone. I shouted out in pain as the hand grabbed my ponytail once more.
"You will speak when spoken to child." The man said cruelly then looked down at my face. "Now, what are you?" I felt a drop of blood roll off my cheek and it splattered on the floor. The old man took his shoe and smeared the blood that fell as to test it. He examined my face closely as he said to me, "Too tall to be a Halfling, too short to be an Elf." I looked at him in confusion,
"A Halfling?" I asked then shut my mouth quickly. His gnarled hand gripped the top of my head and forced it back wards.
"Speak until spoken to!" My cheek was aching badly from the punch I took. I had forgotten how much it hurt to take a punch without my padding and gear; it had only happened once before on a previous occasion. He lowered his head to my level and scrutinized my face, especially my eyes, "just a Mortal woman?" The creatures around me guffawed heartily and I glared at the floor. The thing holding me let go slowly as the old man kept his tight hold. As I began to contemplate disarming the man, something began to tie my hands with a coarse rope. "Tell me, where are you from?"
I looked at him a while before saying, "Back off." and with what little room I had, I brought my knee to his face and connected it squarely with his nose. He immediately stumbled back wards and covered his beak-like nose with his hands. I struggled against the things that held me and I finally got looks at their faces: some were squashed and others were scared, some had only one eye, but every smiling mouth was filled with pointed yellow teeth. Suddenly, a hard kick connected with my ankle and I heard a snap; instantly I felt an unbelievably terrible pain in my ankle and shin. I screamed at the top of my lungs as I fell to the cold tile floor; my leg could no longer support me. Tears filled my eyes and I screamed again in anger and pain at the old man.
"YOU ASSHOLE! SON OF A BITCH! WHO ARE YOU?! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" The old man stood up and glared at me; I could see red dripping from beneath the hand that covered his nose. I could barely hear him speak over the screeches and howls of excitement.
"Saruman will not be played so easily! Take her to the top of the tower! Maybe with some cold her tongue and temper will cool. Saruman will not lightly take to disobedience!" At that moment, a hand squeezed the back of my neck and directed me out of the black room. The things made me walk on my bad leg and kicked my knees if I stumbled. My right ankle was badly sprained; I could feel it with each step. Finally, after making me climb stairs till my eyes burned from crying, they threw me onto a flat, wet surface. It was hard stone; I knew I was on top of the tower as soon as they left me with their taunting screams and hisses.
I lay on the cold roof, with my hands tied behind my back; the rain stung my eyes and drenched my clothes again. All I felt I could do was cry, and so I did; I shut my eyes and let my tears mix with the rainwater while I wallowed in pity and prayed that the unbearable pain in my ankle would miraculously go away. Suddenly I felt a pair of hands touch my shoulders.
"Do not cry, for it will not spare the pain." I looked up and saw another old man, drenched and wearing gray. He leaned over me, untied my hands then looked at me. "Which ankle is it my lady?" I looked up at him in disbelief and agony as I pointed to my right ankle. He looked with compassion into my eyes and then examined my sprain. I saw gentle warmth and kindness in his eyes and it calmed me. "I see," he said to himself then said to me in an encouraging voice, "Come on now, on your feet." He helped me up to rest against a tall spire rising out of the side of the tower.
"Who are you?" I asked slowly, the man looked at my face and replied,
"I am Gandalf the Gray. Are you the one Saruman used that wretched book to summon?" I shook my head in exhausted confusion and replied,
"My name is Laura Barnes." I answered then stopped, "did you say your name was Gandalf?"
"That is of no importance now." He said with firm sincerity. I closed my mouth and said nothing more as he looked around the sky, the ground, and everywhere else. As I observed this somewhat grumpy old man I gathered the courage to ask, "Please sir, can you tell me? Are we in Isengard?" He didn't look at me as he answered shortly,
"Yes, a very ill place to land indeed! No place for foolishness or the weak of heart. I'm glad that Saruman found none of it here." When he said that, I began to piece it together: Isengard, Halfling, and Saruman? Those words!
"Are we in-" suddenly I stopped at the sight of the old man in white's appearance behind the grayed old man. "LOOK OUT!" I screamed and pointed but it was to late, the old man in white had pointed his staff at the other and without touching him slammed his body onto the roof. The man in white tortured the other for what seemed to be ages, I watched silently for fear and shock of what I saw.
"A friendship with Saruman is not lightly thrown aside." The man in white spat, "One ill turn deserves another. It is over. Embrace the power of the Ring, or embrace your own destruction!"
What? I thought to myself, He called himself Saruman! He did! Gandalf looked up from the roof floor and answered Saruman saying,
"There is only one Lord of the Ring. Only one who can bend it to his will. And he does not share power." He crawled away from Saruman then shouted at me, "Laura! Leap from the tower!" and disappeared off the edge.
"NO! GANDALF!" I screamed. I then looked back at Saruman; he looked down the edge of the tower and then glared at me. He began to advance as he said,
"I may have lost one gray wizard, but I have still the Seer of Sauron in my grasp." As he moved everything seemed to slow down. In my head I heard Gandalf's words,
"Laura! Leap from the tower!" it was suicide to do so, I knew it; Saruman lowered his staff and pointed it at me. I was either to be tortured by Saruman, or face my death, and I chose death. Quickly I grabbed the edge of the tower and slid off of it. The wind whipped in my ears and I shut my eyes as I embraced the whistling air that would escort me to my death. Moments later I hit…it was soft, smooth, and not the ground. This couldn't be death. I opened my eyes and saw that I was on a huge bird; I looked behind me and there sat the grayed Gandalf.
"Gandalf," I heard a voice say, "I cannot bear the two of you to the ends of the earth." The bird was talking,
"Then bear us just to Edoras in the Land of Rohan, Gwaihir my friend." I heard Gandalf reply; suddenly, I felt weak and exhausted. Weariness over came and I felt all energy leave my body as I collapsed on the soft feathers of the giant bird.
