It was mid-evening now, and it had been a hard slog coming down from the mountain. The fellowship was exhausted, both in body and in spirit. The trials of Moria, and the loss of Gandalf still weighing heavy on their minds. Even Chief was feeling the strain a little. A forced march was a forced march, and was difficult even for a Spartan. They had been moving for hours now. Aragorn was just ahead, leading them on.
The hobbits knew that they had to keep moving, but were completely flushed out. Realistically, Chief thought that they would only make another couple of killometers or so, and then would be able to go no further. They were in need of food, and desperately in need of rest. "Cortana, bring the maps up. What can you tell me about Lothlorien?" He asked her, he needed to know for sure how far they had left to travel, Aragorn's confidence wasn't enough.
Cortana pulled up the digital map, completely covering the left side of his HUD. Chief turned his head to compensate, to see where he was going. "It's one of the elven strongholds Chief, there's not many of them left in Middle Earth. The elves are not all one people, there are many different independent groups, clans if you will. All of which have their own individualistic cultures, different dialects, different ways of living etc. The elves that reside in the forest of Lothlorien are distinct from those of the ones we met at Rivendell. Wood elves, more secretive, less friendly towards strangers. We'll have to be on our best behaviour when we get there! Most likely they will see us as trespassers, or worse, as threats. Be on your guard Chief!" It was the logical cause of action given the facts.
One of the hobbits stumbled behind him, almost twisting his ankle. It was Pippin. The little guys were starting to struggle, and they weren't the only ones. Aragorn and Boromir looked winded, Boromir puffing hard with every step. Gimli was completely red faced, and was doing little better than the hobbits because of his heavy armour. Only Legolas seemed unaffected. It appeared that the elves really could give Spartan endurance a run for its money!
Chief sped up to a jog, catching up to Aragorn, "Aragorn, how much further? The hobbits can't keep going on like this!" Aragorn seemed to be in fairly good spirits, his morale was excellent considering all that they had been through. Even enough to start joking with Chief!
"What's the matter John, are you getting tired?" Then he started to chuckle. Chief didn't take the bait, and kept quiet. It was curious, Aragorn was always deadly serious when on the move. The only time he was ever playful was when...he was safe! Chief didn't have to wait long to find out that he knew Aragorn better than he thought. Not one minute later, the two allies crossed over to the peak of the hill they were climbing.
There was a fresh water spring at the top. Icy blue and crystal clear, pure and gurgling across the dale. The spring, amongst others, formed a small tributary that fed the Celebrent River. It was then that they saw the end of their journey. Their destination. First a clear blue sky, the sun setting just off to the west, just behind them, casting long and spindly shadows. Then the lush green woodland itself came into view. "Our journey is nearly over, my friends!" Aragorn called back. The fellowship could not have been more relived!
They still had to get to the treeline before nightfall however, and nightfall was not far from now. An hour, maybe less? They jogged down the gentle incline of the hillside, gravity graciously taking the strain away from their fatigued muscles and tired legs. In the dale below was long waving grasslands, lush, with gentle and waving bulrushes, fed by the silt and waters of the flood plain they grew upon. Sometimes the hobbits would disappear under the broad-leaved ferns and high standing reeds. Finally, they reached the lichen covered treeline, they were safe...or at least hoped that they were safe.
How would the elves react to their arrival? Would they help or would they not? Even Legolas was tense, he knew how the elves of the woodland realms could be. Some elves outright hated outsiders. Not all elves were enlightened as many of their race strove to be. The others saw them as proud, arrogant even. Yet for all their races pride, many of their race held dark secrets, hidden away from the rest of the world. The men of the west had many reasons to distrust and fear them.
The fellowship passed through the branches of the very first trees. Even the cruellest of elves would make kinder hosts than the orcs of Moria! Chief strode into the treeline, yet still he did not feel at ease. Strange, it was so still inside the forest glade. The forest had an unnatural closeness to it. "Huh, that's weird!" Cortana suddenly piped up "There's some kind of interference here. Something in the forest is messing up the armour's sensors. Even your motion tracker is playing up. I'm all but blind Chief, you're on your own!" It certainly was very strange, not since his missions on the forerunner installations had anything like this happened. John is wary, and falls to the rear of the group.
The rest of the fellowship were on their guard, they didn't need advanced sensors to be freaked out by this place, requiring nothing more than gut instinct. "Stay close young hobbit!" A very agitated Gimli snapped, pulling Frodo closer to him. "There are tales that a great sorceress lives in these woods. An elf witch, of terrible power!" Both companions looked around pensively, eyes darting from tree to tree. "All who look upon her, fall under her wicked spell..."
"Frodo!" A voice soothed into Frodo's ear. For a split second, he thought the ring was speaking to him again, but quickly realised that this was something different. "...and are never seen again" Gimli finished.
The voice came at him again, stronger this time, causing the young hobbit to stop dead in fright. "Your coming to us echoes with the footsteps of doom. You bring great evil here, ring-bearer!" He looks quickly around the woodland, but sees no one "Are you alright Mr Frodo?" A concerned Sam asks him. Frodo doesn't answer, he shakes his head, be it unconvincingly, and follows after the others.
Then Chief starts to hear the voice, "You are something else entirely..." Chief takes a combat stance, surprised by the voice. He too thought it was the ring trying to tempt him again. Could the ring speak with many voices? "...Spartan, the perfect solider, bane of worlds...you come to our world in its darkest hour..." Chief is on high alert now. DEFCON 2. Was Gimli's paranoia about an elven witch well founded?
Then Chief hears something, something in the forest this time. A tree moves, a leaf falls, the pitch and intensity of the light changes ever so slightly. Even without his sensors, he knows exactly what is about to happen. When no one is looking, Chief draws his knife and slips silently away. Not even Legolas notices his passing.
Meanwhile, Gimli is completely lost to his thoughts, all but oblivious of his surroundings. "Well...here is one dwarf she will not ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox-" However, the elven archer was already there. He drew his bow, and waited. Gimli almost walked straight into the leaf-shaped arrowhead, turning just in time to stop himself. He re-coiled in shock, a soft "Oh!" escaping from his lips.
Other bows appeared inside the glade, they had walked straight into an ambush. Some elf guardians wore concealing elven cloaks, others were just perfectly positioned for the trap to function. They were surrounded, and even Legolas had been taken off guard. He had barely had time to draw an arrow in preparation of the standoff. Then he noticed it.
Chief had disappeared! A small smile spread across the elf's face. If the Spartan was stealthy enough to slip away without anyone noticing, without even a Mirkwood sentinel noticing him pass away...
Then the leader of Lothlorien's guardians appeared amongst them, his rank distinguished by a blood-red cloak, "The dwarf breathes so loudly that we could have shot him in the dark!" Haldir says coyly. Gimli grunts in indignation, Eru hate the pride and arrogance of the elves! Yet Haldir is slightly concerned, "I am curious however, my comrades inform me that there are nine walkers that trespass in our forest. Tell me, where is the ninth member of your fellowship?" Everyone was suddenly made aware that Chief John was missing. Most shocked was Aragorn. How had he melted away so easily, with such silence?
Haldir hears the crack of a large branch, and smiles. But was shocked by what happened next. The Lothlorien captain had assumed that the other outsider was somewhere nine strides from here, and had simply broken his stealth. Little did he know, Chief had just vaulted high into the air, hurtling straight towards him!
He was more than surprised when the seven foot Spartan landed right behind him, quickly holding a sturdy knife to his neck. Every arrow in the wood turned, and was now pointing straight towards him and his captor. Haldir turned slowly and looked at the aggressor, completely entranced by the giant man and his eyeless, golden visor.
When he stared at Chief, and their eyes met, John spoke. "Not the most friendly way to greet your allies!" he said coolly.
Haldir turned back round to Gimli, his eyes sarcastically wide. "Oh!" He said, in a nasal and mocking tone. Aragorn was having none of it, the situation had just escalated exponentially.
"Chief, please. Release him! These are no enemies of ours!" Chief reluctantly did as he was told, trusting Aragorn's knowledge over his instincts. His grip released from Haldir's midrift, and the knife was sheaved once more. Haldir relaxed, and walked towards Aragorn, and bowed. The heir of Isildur was known to the elves of Lothlorien. But he turned his back on him. For you see, Haldir was still fascinated by the warrior who had just gotten the drop on him.
"The courts of Lothlorien know of you, Spartan. The lords of the elves are in constant communion during these dark times, and word of late has come from Rivendell. It is true that we must keep our allies close during this fragile point in our history" It concerned Chief, how did they know of him and the fellowship? They had set out immediately on the first day. A messenger hawk, a raven perhaps? Or perhaps there was even more forms of 'magic' in this world!
Musing aside, Chief knew how to reply to the captain, "Then you know as well as I do...we do not need a fight. Ask your men to lower their weapons. We are here only to seek sanctuary" Haldir turns away from John, impressed by the clarity of his wisdom.
"Your Spartan holds his words well, Aragorn son of Arathorn. He is correct, there is no need for hostilities!" He gestured to his men, nodding and smiling. They did so without question, although many eyes were still fixed on Chief. "Come, friends. She is waiting..." He began to walk away, the Lothlorien sentinels following suit.
The four hobbits looked at each other in confusion, "Who is waiting?" Pippin inevitably asked Haldir. The ageless elf captain stopped, and turned back round to face the inquisitive hobbits. He raised an eyebrow in surprise. He knew of hobbits, but he had not met one. He was a little taken aback by the young one's curiosity, and his impertinence.
"The Lady of the Forest, master hobbit, for it is she whom protects these boarders from evil" Frodo and Chief started to shuffle uncomfortably, they both assumed that they knew who this was. Least comfortable of all was Gimli, for he believed everyone was in great danger. But the alternative was facing marauding orcs, and he was simply too scared to voice any of his objections...
Time passes, and the fellowship is lead away from the boarders of the elven world. Night is deepening amongst the trees of Lothlorien. A Cold but gentle breeze ruffles the turquoise and indigo leaves of the incredibly tall trees. Chief figured that the forest had to have been growing here for hundreds of thousands of years. This forest had to be as old as humanity itself, possibly older. He still didn't understand how it was possible that there were humans living here. Had humanity had been brought to this world somehow? Why? He kept thinking about the forerunners, something was off about this planet, something about it seemed artificial. Magic, immortal beings, such things did not occur naturally. Some kind of artificial force had to at work here on this planet.
The staircase went on and on. It was like a parallel version of the stairway inside Moria. Circular, not a straight line in sight. The elves only ever worked with nature, never against it, unlike the heavy, cuboid architecture of the dwarfs. Their architecture was strong and stoic. The elven world was light and airy, not deep and dark as with the grand but oppressive dwarven halls. There was something subtle to the magnificence of the elven architecture. They were ascending the stairs, not climbing down them. They were safe from danger, not in peril.
Then his thoughts went to Gandalf again, how he had failed to save him. No! He couldn't think about this, he needed to supress his emotion, his doubts, his demons. "Through me, you could have saved him...John". The voice of the ring was like oil and honey. It was launching its first true temptation upon John, it had chosen its moment to strike.
"Through me, you can save them all!" It was like hypnotism, Chief had to resist it. He would never be corrupted, never fall for its lies! But the danger was that if he let his guard down, even once...if the ring found the right temptation, Chief knew that he would start to fall...No! Resist it Spartan! You are better than this! "Yet you can be better still..."
Steeling his mind, John walked on. Whatever the ring said next, he had to dismiss it and ignore it.
"My master, was once known as the necromancer. He had the power to raise all, from the dead, no matter how long since they had passed from life". Impressive, but meaningless, Chief thought to himself. "But, this power was only ever through me, and was never his own". The ring lied, voice charming as milk and honey. "You could do this also, achieve all through me, through me alone, bring them back and save them!"
"I could save them!" Chief whispered desirably. So many had died, billions dead, millions of families destroyed, crippled and torn apart. His comrades, his Spartan brothers, John could bring them back and knew it to be true. He'd seen the powers of this world, powers he didn't understand, powers that defied nature itself. Of course it was possible to bring them back...
...But, it was against the laws of nature. "Let sleeping dogs lie!" He'd heard once. And what form would they take? Would they be terrible ghosts of their former selves. Ruined shells of life, like the ringwraiths, or worse forbid? Would they beg for death?
He couldn't help but moan a little, quiet and in discomfort. It was as if a wedge was being driven into his mind, driving him mad. He envied Frodo, how easily he seemed to resist the ring's power. Perhaps the hearts of men really were corrupt. Weak, slaves to their desires... "Resist? Why resist if you know you will fail..." With every whisper, with every taunt and every temptation, Chief could feel his mind weakening, falling just a little bit further. Supressing his feelings wasn't working. He had to find another way to combat his desires. But, he knew no other way! "No other way, Spaaartaaan..."
Chief knew he was in trouble. His conditioning, which he had learned to utilize under every situation for all his life, was failing him. Decades of experience was no longer serving him, it was working against him! In theory, a Spartans mind was like stone. They had rock hard psychologies, immutable, made to be indestructible. But in reality, for all the Spartan's abilities, they were only human, and like every one of their facets, their minds were imperfect.
The temptations of the ring were like running water, he thought to himself. As his mind stood numb and unmoving, they flowed all around him, flowing around his defences. The ring was probing for weaknesses, anything: Any gap, any crevice.
Running water brought down mountains and turned rock to formless sand. He could feel his mind, his human, imperfect mind, full of 'cracks' and 'crevices' being 'worn' away by the power of the ring. The Spartan almost began to panic a little, he was losing control over his thoughts, thoughts he had kept a lid on for all his life. Decades of conditioning by ONI was being washed away. He felt like a boy again, a weeping child standing amongst storm clouds, his tears being lost in the rain. He was being overwhelmed...
Little did John know however, was that the ring was struggling to beat him! The will of Sauron had broken men with minds like his before, men with minds like stone, unmoving and seemingly unbreakable. But such a task was difficult to the upmost. It was why the rings of power had such difficulty overthrowing the minds of dwarfs for instance, whose minds were the strongest and most immovable as them all.
It had never encountered a soul like the Spartan's before. Little did John know, that his life essence was one of great hardness. His psychology was utterly defiant, impossibly unbendable. Not since the time of Númenor had the will of Sauron known such courage and defiance.
But the ring was patient, like water. Water was eternal, and water could wait. The ring of power had broken stronger men than John, all it needed was time. But would the Spartan escape its grasping hands before its work was finished?
Chief had completely lost control of his passions and emotions. He knew that the ring was winning...he couldn't bare this much longer...Then to his relief, just before he started clawing at his head, distraction came his way. The ring snarled in defeat, its hold over the Spartan had been broken, for now. Water always waits!
Chief looked around, suddenly realising that he was in some kind of hall. It was ethereal, bathed in white, angelic light, and had pulled him out from the darkness of his own mind. "I'd imagine this is what Christians believe heaven looks like Chief!" Cortana remarked. Chief couldn't help but disagree. He imagined it is what they believe Purgatory looks like.
Chief had studied the religions of the world. To this day, the human race still clung onto the faiths of old. Chief had studied them, every Spartan had, in order to prepare them for the Covenant, so that they would know the difference between good and bad religion. But most importantly, so that they would understand how religion could be used like a sword, with which to cut down its enemies with.
An elven herald spoke with great pride and dignity, breaking his train of thought. "Behold! The lights of our world!" He began to say, "Lord Celeborn, and our noble queen, lady Galadriel, keeper of the eternal light, the lights of our world!" The fellowship was bathed in even more light. It was almost blinding, Chief felt it pour into him as he gazed in wonder, and was amazed when the polarisation effect of his visor had absolutely no effect.
Then the lights retreated and began to dim. The fellowship stood open mouthed as they gazed in wonder at the lord and lady of Lothlorien, it was they who were the source of the light. Celeborn then spoke. His voice was soft, but was not one of weakness.
"Nine there are, yet ten, ten set out from the gates of Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him!" Celeborn did not possess the gift of foresight, at least not strong enough to see such precise events. Galadriel was the more powerful, and as she looked into the eyes of the fellowship, she knew.
"He has fallen into shadow!" She said with a gasp, her heart falling a little, for she had always respected and admired Gandalf. "The quest, stands upon a knife edge now. If you stay but a little, it will fail...and lead to the ruin, of all..." Her voice trailed away as her focus shifted to that of Boromir. Boromir stares into her eyes. It has been his fear all along, what happens when Sauron takes back what is his? "Do not loose heart, son of Gondor. The night may yet still pass, for even now, there still is hope..." But in all honesty, Boromir did not believe that there was. He looks away, breaking down, weeping, ashamed. Galadriel must know that he desires the ring! Mustn't she?
Galadriel moves on, for she senses another mind, someone far stouter of heart and spirit, "Yet hope remains..." She gases into the eyes of Samwise Gamgee, and he looked back unflinchingly "...hope remains whilst the company is strong..." Who knows what she said to the young hobbit.
"Please do not let your hearts be troubled...go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow, and much toil..." And then that train of thought brings her to John. John, who has almost gotten used to hearing voices in his head! "Weary with sorrow, rent and weakened by the losses of those you have lost. What sights have you seen with your eyes? What madness? What darkness have you endured? For someone so young, both in age and mind, what wonders have you seen..."
And then Galadriel saw it, saw much of what Chief had witnessed. The human empire, a domain that stood over a thousand worlds...destroyed! The war, the chaos...a single enemy...the Covenant! Such horror, such pain. Galadriel does not understand all of the images she sees. "You have seen more than any on this world. More possibly than even the Miar have witnessed. How much more can you endure? You fear failure, it permeates your entire being...will you fail again?"
Chief is staring into bloody hell, looking down the barrel of the gun, staring into Armageddon. The world stands upon the brink. And he whispers quietly, "NO!" Galadriel smiles, knowing that the Spartan will not yield to the power of evil. She knows that whilst he is alive, there is hope for the free peoples of middle earth.
"...Go now and rest John. You are safe here..." Despite all his anxieties and fears, John couldn't help but feel at ease here...