Chapter Fourteen
"I scanned it, and got some pretty interesting energy readings. Like nothing I've ever seen before. The Ring was, no IS, alive," explained a weary Doctor. He sat on the Stewards throne, Aragorn to his right, Gandalf to his left and River lounging across from him against a gleaming white column.
"So, are we talking living metal? Like an upgraded Nestene duplicate?" questioned River.
"Nah, they've been out of business since they created an Andy Murray double, to win Wimbledon. Bloody Tories… Sorry I'm rambling. No this is different, the Ring has none of the properties it had before, no invisibility, no awesome power; it's more like a containment unit. It's housing someone, something, allowing it to survive. Whoever puts the ring one is completely vulnerable to possession, and I mean full on possession," he answered, crossing his legs out of habit. Gandalf sighed and hoisted himself up from his seat.
"This is dark magic, Doctor. There is only one being in Middle Earth capable. Sauron has returned once again. I fear this time, he may be too powerful to beat," he said.
"Unfortunately my old friend, I have to agree with you. He has returned and if The Master does indeed have the Ring as we expect then he'll be even more powerful. Our only hope is to separate the ring from the Master and destroy it."
"My name is the Master."
"Good day, Master. I am Sauron, dark lord of all."
"I know all about you. I want to work with you, to take this puny world and all others across the multi-verse."
"You have a plan, human? I do not take kindly to orders."
"I am not human. I am a lord like you. You are a lord of darkness; I am a lord of time."
"Time, you say? Well then maybe we can come to an agreement. Be warned however. Do not cross me Time Lord or I shall burn this pitiful form of yours until it is ash. I am at an impasse. My only protection is YOU. Be careful with my precious…"
The conversation stretched on for several ages of Middle Earth and yet was over in less than a second. The Master slipped the Ring off his finger and his appearance returned to normal, and Sauron's presence faded from his mind. The ethereal feel of Sauron's spirit lingered, a constant pull in the deep recesses of the Master's brain yearning for the Ring to be put on. The Master disregarded the notion and turned back to the TARDIS. He had work to do.
The Doctor, River and Gandalf wound their way slowly through the streets of Minas Tirith towards the royal stables. If not for their knowledge of recent events, it could've been any other day, people milling about, birds flitting from perch to perch. As it was, a dark haze seemed to have descended from the heavens, clouding their minds. They reached the stables and found Shadowfax whom Gandalf mounted. The Doctor wrung his hand thoroughly while a stable hand bought over a tan brown mare and River swung herself into the saddle.
"Goodbye sweetie," she said her face full of emotion. The Doctor sighed at her flirtatious tone. "Remember the mission. Find Alatar, bring back his staff and that's it, you get it? No one night stands, dwarf or no dwarf." His tone was serious but his eyes playful.
"Consider it done, Doctor," said Gandalf.
The TARDIS spat and groaned in protest. The Master was working with Orc tools, smashing slicing and burning his way through the console. He danced with glee every time the machine shuddered with pain. Several times she had tried to throw him out of her doors and he had punished her for that. Now, apart from the involuntary shudders she lay dormant. Outside the tower of Orthanc lay the smouldering remains of the Ents and beyond Orcs hard at work, restoring the place to its former glory. Up and to the north, where the dam had been replaced, was a ledge, the led into Fangorn forest. Standing upon that ledge was Treebeard. He was the last of his kind and he was angry beyond words. He leaned back an issued a piercing cry that sliced the air apart. It was a war cry, one intended to be heard across Middle Earth.