Chapter IV

Of Flames and Flights – Minas Tirith II

Dorfo awoke the next morning to an interesting sight. Sauron still sat in the corner, his back turned, but Dorfo could see that the Dark Lord was holding a small, gnarled ring in the light and examining it. Not the Two Ring, of course. This ring had no legs, nor did it have a speck of gold on it. It was just as hideous, however. Sauron had apparently not found his forging skills yet.

The interesting thing was that there were dozens of rings. They were scattered on the floor around Sauron, each identical to the one the Dark Lord was holding.

"Sir?" Dorfo asked.

"Excellent, you're awake," Sauron said happily, turning away from the ring. "My work has paid off, halfling." He gestured to take in all the rings. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"Er…sure," Dorfo said.

"Just wait until you see them put into use. Now, come, we have a hunt to resume."

Without bothering to ask more about the rings, Dorfo got out of bed and prepared to leave. He put his gritty jacket on over his gritty shirt, grabbed his walking stick, and walked over to the door. As good as a real bed and meal felt, he was ready to get out to the road again. To adventure. To usefulness.

Sauron, meanwhile, produced a large brown sack and began to gather all the rings into it. The Dark Lord then took half a dozen out of the sack and held them in his right hand. His club occupied the other hand. Once he had donned his cloak and hood, he looked less like the Dark Lord of Mordor and more like an ominous beggar dressed as the Dark Lord of Mordor.

The mismatched pair walked out the door, down the stairs, and into the white streets of Minas Tirith. The thin shape of Zombie Gollum brought up the rear. There were many Gondorians out in the streets, even at this early hour. As usual, they didn't appear to notice the three strangers, but they nevertheless kept their distance. Dorfo found it increasingly strange that nobody seemed to notice that Sauron was Sauron. Granted, the Dark Lord was wearing a disguise of sorts – an oversized black cloak with an equally oversized hood covering most of his head – but that just made him look even more frightening. Especially since, fairly recently, certain black cloaked riders had viciously attacked the city.

There has to be some sort of magic going on, he thought. Gondorians cannot be that stupid. The hobbit decided to ask his master. "Sir, is there a reason what the devil are you doing?" He usually did not speak to Sauron in that manner – which was quite obvious, since Dorfo was still alive – but his tongue was working faster than his brain.

Sauron was tossing his newly-forged rings randomly onto the street around him. The mangled black things were scattered all around them. When Dorfo spoke, the Dark Lord paused, one hand halfway into the sack of rings. "I am carrying out my plan, halfling. Now be silent."

Dorfo decided not to press the matter, and resigned to following his master in confusion. Sauron continued to toss the rings. One particularly evil throw struck a small girl in the forehead, causing her to run off in tears. Sauron chuckled. Dorfo sighed. Just when the hobbit would start to forget that Sauron was Sauron, something like that would happen. But, as usual, he ignored it. Sauron accepted him and found him helpful, so Sauron was still a Good Person to Dorfo.

The three reached the enormous city gates, which were open halfway. Sauron had finally run out of rings. He tossed the sack aside, chuckling again at committing this small crime of littering. Dorfo imagined Sauron's thoughts being something along the lines of "Take that, Minas Tirith."

As usual, the guards ignored them, and the three passed through the gates without incident. After a short hike across the Pelennor to Osgiliath, they would reunite with Ollie and resume their hunt. Dorfo did not really care about the hunt itself, but both Sauron and Zombie Gollum seemed to be holding back a large amount of desire to get to Ollie – and the Ring – as soon as possible.

The three walked across the open field. Suddenly, shouts came from behind them, followed by a deep growl. Dorfo turned around to see the gate guards advancing toward a tall flaming being. It was, without a doubt, Spanky. Dorfo turned to Sauron, who was staring at the scene and apparently deep in thought.

"Bad luck for him, eh, sir? Well, we'd best be going!" As Dorfo turned back toward Osgiliath, Sauron stopped him.

"No. Not just yet."

Dorfo looked at his master in horror. "You don't mean we're going to go…to go help that…that thing!"

"I think he would be a useful asset in our hunt for the Ring."

"But!"

"No arguments," Sauron said firmly. "Now come."

Sauron arrived at the gate before Dorfo was even halfway there. Zombie Gollum stayed back in the Fields to wait; Sauron apparently realized that he would not be of any help in this matter.

When Dorfo arrived, Spanky was arguing with three guards, who were still trying to think of a way to restrain the balrog without accidentally setting themselves on fire.

"…not do it on purpose! She bumped into me! I tried to avoid her!"

One of the guards looked skeptical. "How do we know you're telling the truth? I've learned to not trust balrogs."

Spanky was getting angry. "When have you ever met a balrog? We don't just swagger around the cities and forests, you filthy liar!"

"We will be the ones who decide who is lying, balrog," another guard said.

"Oh, how very fair of you!"

"A little girl is being treated for severe burns because of you!" the third guard shouted, eager to say something dramatic.

"I told you, it was an accident! I can't help it if people charge into me like that!"

"Lying balrog!"

"Fool human!"

Things were going nowhere fast, Dorfo noted.

"Excuse me," a deep, yet calm voice said from Dorfo's right. All attention shifted toward the speaker. "I believe this is all a misunderstanding. Perhaps I can help settle the dispute."

Sauron drew his mace.

Spanky stood back.

Dorfo shut his eyes.

----------

Thirty seconds later, Sauron, Dorfo, and Spanky were sprinting across Pelennor Fields.

"I appreciate…the…help," Spanky said, panting. He was obviously not used to this much running. "But don't you…think it…could've…been handled a little…less violently?"

"No," Sauron replied firmly, leaving no room for further conversation on the topic.

Sauron was rather surprised that the Gondorians were not making much of an effort to chase them. No arrows were fired; no alarms were sounded; nothing. They only real resistance was those three fool guards. Perhaps it was the fact that Sauron did not really give the guards time to raise an alarm.

They quickly reached the ruins of Osgiliath. Spanky stopped and collapsed onto a heap of rubble near the river. Steam rose thickly above him. A few meters away, Dorfo collapsed in a similar manner, minus the steam. They were both panting hard. Weaklings, Sauron thought, standing over them.

"So, we meet again, Master Spanky," Sauron said, pulling back his massive hood and offering a hand to the balrog. The halfling's lessons were starting to take hold, it seemed. I will have to do something about that.

Spanky took the hand and rose. The young balrog stood at a height similar to Sauron's, and looked no less menacing. "Thank you."

Enough of this banter, Sauron thought. It is time to get to the point. "Master Spanky, would you consider joining us on our journey? We could use someone of your…expertise."

Sauron could practically smell the sudden fear coming from Dorfo. The halfling was not fond of balrogs.

Spanky was silent for a moment; the suddenness of Sauron's offer most likely threw him off guard. That was good. Finally, the balrog spoke.

"That depends on what journey you are on."

Sauron decided he should be as vague as possible in answering the balrog's question. As much as Sauron hated it, Spanky appeared to be inherently good. The balrog would not like to join a mission alongside The Dark Lord of Mordor to capture the Ring of Power.

"We are…looking for something," Sauron said. "It was not in Minas Tirith. Our next destination will be the tower of Orthanc, in Isengard."

Dorfo gave Sauron a confused look. The halfling had known nothing about Sauron's plans to travel to Isengard. Sauron only hoped that the Two Ring was still heading in that direction, or it would put them greatly off course.

"Well," Spanky said slowly, "I suppose we could journey together. For a while. I am headed in that direction as well."

"Excellent!" Sauron said, beaming. "Now, Master Spanky, I'd like to hear about your journey."

"All right," Spanky said. He turned to Dorfo. "Perhaps you may have some information that will help me, after you hear what I have to say."

Sauron listened with unusual attentiveness as Spanky told his tale. Spanky told of living peacefully with his father in the Mines of Moria. He told of his father going out to confront trespassers near the Bridge of Khazad-dum. He told of his father's fall to his death at the hands of the intruders. Sauron glanced at Dorfo several times throughout the story; he could almost swear that the halfling's face was getting paler by the minute.

"I must avenge my father," Spanky said as his story came to an end. "I must. It is the right thing to do. However, I only have one name to go by.

"What…what name is that?" Dorfo asked sheepishly.

"Dorfo Sackville-Baggins." Spanky nearly spat the name out.

Dorfo nearly choked.

"What? Do you know him?" Spanky asked, his eyes widening.

"No!" Dorfo said defensively, then tried to stammer his way out of it. "I mean yes! Well, not really. Er. Only…sort of."

"Does he live in this Shire I keep hearing about?"

"N – Yes."

"That's what I thought," Spanky said, then turned to Sauron. "That will be my next destination, but I will travel with you to Isengard."

"Good, good," Sauron said, idly tossing small hunks of rubble into the river. "Let's be going, then."

"Wait," Spanky said abruptly. "I never got your names."

Sauron thought for a moment. It would probably not be a good idea to tell this honorable balrog that he, Sauron, was Sauron, Dark Lord of Mordor. And it would certainly not be a good idea for Dorfo to tell the balrog his true name.

Dorfo was one step ahead of him. "My name is…Overhill. Yes. Overhill."

Hmm, the halfling is good, Sauron thought. The balrog turned to Sauron, waiting.

What would be a good alias for the Dark Lord of Mordor? Sauron racked his brain. Sauron…Sauron…Saur-ron…Ron-saur…that's it!

"I am called Ronald," Sauron said, offering his hand, just as Dorfo taught him. Spanky took it, the fire having no effect on Sauron's armor. "Ronald The Deceiv – er, Ronald Saruman."

Dorfo turned to Sauron and mouthed the name "Ronald Saruman" in a "what in the devil were you thinking?" manner. Sauron beamed at him, quite proud of himself.

"Now that that is settled," Sauron said, turning toward the previously-ignored Ollie, "let us resume our hunt."

None of them noticed that Zombie Gollum was no longer with them.

----------

The Two Ring trotted across the plains of Rohan.

It was confident that it had regained the large distance between itself and its pursuers. Still, it continued to move with a much more urgent pace. It had to reach its destination without the hunters catching it. It had to.

There, the Two Ring would make its final stand. It had been planning this since soon after its escape from Sauron. If all went according to plan, the Two Ring would never have to worry about being a slave again. It would finally be free.

The Two Ring trotted across the plains of Rohan, unaware of the pursuing figure watching it with hunger in his eyes.