A/N: Alright! Alrighty right! I want to give a huge "Thank you" to the people who hit that "Follow" button: AngelElmarlienHenning, Davs, SalutMinet, and Jacquie1122. I love seeing people take interest in what I write. I hope the story continues to intrigue you. And a huge "Thank you!" to our first reviewer! Whoot! I'm glad you think this story is interesting. I'm not really sure about what "mischief and fun to come" you speak of, but hopefully what I have in store is suitable enough to fit the description. ^^

Chapter Three

The hallway was familiar. Deep maroon wallpaper and dark stained wooden floors that echoed as I followed them. My feet knew the way by heart. Safe. That's how I felt while walking the hallways of Victor's manor. Music blared in my headphones as I headed for Victor's private lab.

Victor was a workaholic. If you left him to his own devices too long he'd probably work himself to death.

I stopped at the door to his lab. He always holed himself up there for days on end, especially when he was in a mood. I pried the door open and peeked in. The black of his t-shirt came into view, his upper body hunched over something in the far back.

I turned off the music in my I-pod and slipped in. Among the steel plated tables, chemistry kits set were up among the machines and white sterile cabinets. I tried to mind the many cords running along the floor. Who knows what would happen if I tripped in here?

"Do you have a good reason for bothering me?" Victor's annoyed melodic voice asked thwarting my attempt to startle him.

I pouted and pressed myself against his narrow waist. "You need a break. You've been in here for days."

Victor's broad shoulder sagged when I refused to unwind myself from his waist as he tried to ignore me. I peered around him to see what he was so invested in. A thick text book laid open on the sterile counter. I scouted around to peek further under his arm to get a better look.

"You are such a nuisance at times," Victor said with a chuckle as I read under his arm. He had been studying alchemy formulas. Being the lead in the telecommunications and energy industries, Victor constantly competed to outdo any competitors that tried to challenge him.

"Well, that's why you love me," I said as I let go of him and pulled the alchemy book over. Judging by the formulas, he was looking into creating a lighter density gold that was easier to produce. Gold transferred energy efficiently and was high in demand in the tech field. Computer chips used gold, satellites, and panels on spacecraft being developed by the space program in Bree. "So this is what you've been pouring over the last few days."

Victor sighed. "Creating gold is difficult to make in even small amounts artificially, and the natural deposits in the East and in Erebor are dwindling."

"Hm." I made a sound of agreement. Gold was extremely valuable on the market and experts predicted there would be a shortage in the next century or so. "Always ahead of the curb. Well, you can work on it later. Miriam told me to drag your ass out of your lab for lunch."

"Tell her to bring it here. There is much work to do," Victor replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. Victor with his darker complexion and dark hair suggested an Eastern heritage, but no one knew for sure. Burgundy colored eyes studied the pages of the textbook, flipping from one section to another, memorizing certain formulas and sigils. When Victor dedicated himself to a project, he did so wholeheartedly, working long and tirelessly till he was satisfied with the end results.

"The world isn't going to end if you go eat lunch," I said with a huff and eye roll. "Besides, we all miss your radiant smile."

Victor looked down at me, an eyebrow raised incredulous. I wrapped my arm around his to lead him out of the lab.

The sound of dripping water woke me up. The dream, a memory from the last time I spent time with Victor. My heart thumped painfully in my chest as I cast my eyes across the damp cell I was thrown into yet again. I missed Victor like something awful. I missed his grumpiness, his dry sense of humor, his dark tan facial features that were always so sharp and angular. I missed the smell of him when we were tangled up together. Sure, he came off a little too serious at times and was a workaholic by nature, but he had a good heart for anyone lucky enough to earn his trust and loyalty.

I rolled over onto my side with a groan and sat up and stretched. My joints popped. I never got that bath that was promised, and my hair was a greasy rat's nest.

It felt I wasn't getting anywhere. After another burst of violence towards me, Mister Big Bad Bossman, decided he wanted nothing more to do with me and ordered his minions to take me back to my cell in the dungeons far down below their headquarters. This time, my senses were unhindered by a concussion and I found myself taking in the medieval decor and torch lit stone hallways. There were no signs of modern appliances or electricity. It felt like I stepped back in time.

A small knot of dread lingered in my stomach twenty-four seven, along with constant hunger. I was fed crumbles of dried moldy bread and a sullied copper cup of water once a day and that was it. I was starting to think these people didn't have a human resource department for inmates to complain to and by the sounds of screaming, they didn't believe in the humane treatment of their prisoners either.

I sat as far away from the wooden door as possible and tried in vain to shut out the screams and the snarls of the guards.

The door swung open and a stout Orc with a mutilated face hobbled in. A nasty looking spike mace hung from his hand as his one good eye glared at me. It appeared the poor bastard had been put through Hell and back.

"Master summons you," the Orc growled, his voice throaty and dry.

Man, Claudia would be horrified to see the way her race is being treated here, I thought with a grimace. Orcs struggled for centuries to gain even second-class citizenship. The government in some states were still in the motions of trying to figure out on whether Orcs should be allowed to vote or not. They had been abused, enslaved, and slaughtered senseless throughout history. The stereotypical portrayal of an Orc was a slow, hideous killing machine that would steal your children and eat them for breakfast. The poor bastard in front of me reminded me of that stereotype.

I followed behind the orc silently as he led the way through the mazelike dungeons. We reached a stairway that spiraled up and up. There was no railing or sturdy barrier to keep a person from falling to their doom if they slipped and took a tumble. My stomach dropped, and my throat constricted. I was going have to make that climb whether my nerves could handle it or not.

I was out of breath and running on fumes by the time we made the track up the spiral staircase of doom. Seriously, had nobody ever heard of an elevator?

I followed the limping Orc down the hallway. I cast a glance at the leg the Orc was trying not put a lot of weight on. The joint at the kneecap looked swollen. "What happened to your leg?"

The Orc ignored me.

I tried to make some civil conversation. The silence was getting to me. I was not looking forward to being in the same room with that bastard again, especially if he attempted to kill me again. "My name is Fiona by the way. What's yours?"

Again nothing. He was ignoring me apparently.

I sighed. Great. I guess I had to walk in silence for the rest of the way there.

The Orc stopped in front of duel doors. They opened on their own, as if sensing our presence. Beyond that was a long dark stained table. Dark grey stone columns towered over head, the ceiling arching towards a two-tiered black iron chandelier with flickering black candles. Was there no electricity in this place at all?

I grimaced upon seeing the head honcho sitting down at the far end of the massive table. Even from the doorway, his pinned up red hair glowed like embers in a firepit. He was suited up in armor again and sat in an intimidating looking chair.

The smell of freshly roasted pork and baked bread wafted off the table as I followed the Orc to the end of the table. An large spread of food – roast suckling pig, roasted lambs, fresh baked buns, a tray of fruit and some kind of soup- was gathered in front of him.

I felt the Dark Lord's hateful eyes watching my every step as we came closer and closer. My heart sped up. I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible, even though I wanted nothing more than run from the dining hall and never look back.

"I brought the girl, Master," the Orc replied quietly and bowed.

"Good. Leave," He told him as his eyes remained focus on my face. He studied me as I tried desperately not to flinch and look away.

My hands clenched and unclenched as I worked to not turn around and run. My heart jackhammered away in my chest.

"Sit. I doubt the food in the dungeons fills the stomach," He replied with almost nonchalance. He acted like he hadn't tried to kill me for the second time not so long ago.

I glanced at the seat next to him and then back at him. Was the food poisoned? What was his game? I doubt I could make it very far if I made a break for it.

"The food is pure," he said watching the emotions war in my eyes. "You would be of no use to me dead."

I bit my tongue to stop myself from making a smart-ass comment. Good to know, he didn't think I would be of any use dead, but he could also be lying at the same time. I cautiously took a seat as I watched him fill my plate. The sight of food, actually food, made my stomach rumble audibly. I pretty sure I lost a good fifteen to twenty pounds while sitting in that cell with nothing, but crumbs and water.

"Thank you," I muttered quietly. He even poured me a glass of what looked like wine. I eyed him from underneath my eyelashes.

"Eat," he said, gesturing towards the food.

I pressed my lips together and swallowed. I was so hungry! I don't know how long I had been in the dungeons this time around. It felt like time crawled at a snail's past down there. There were no windows, no clocks. Just mildew covered walls, the stomping of boots, and the screams of someone being tortured. I had a feeling I was going to be in for years of therapy after I was rescued from this Hellhole.

I picked up a knife and fork and slowly cut into what looked like roasted lamb. I hesitantly smelled it. It smelled delicious and attentively put it in my mouth. Rosemary blossomed across my taste along with the rich taste of cooked meat. I nearly fell apart right there and moaned in pleasure. Real fucking food!

"It appears I have been going about this all wrong," the head honcho remarked as I began digging in. His eyes followed my every movement. "You might only be a tool in some cleverly devised plan. It occurred to me a day back that you reacted in confusion when that barrier appeared to stop me from ending your life. You might not beware of the power you possess."

No really? What gave him that idea? I kept my remarks to myself, focusing on eating and listening. I gulped down the wine.

"You said you were from Dale. Have you been in connect with any wizards passing through the region?" he asked.

I swallowed and arched an unkept eyebrow. Wizards? "Wizards went extinct centuries ago. Nobody seen or heard about one in more than two hundred years."

I watched as his eyes widened. A puzzled expression broke through the indifferent mask. His facial expression hardened. "Explain."

"The last documented wizard went by the name of Virgil Eldrich if I got my facts straight. There's a museum dedicated to him in Celebrim. He was mostly a traveling magician that went from town to town in Rohan preforming magic and setting off quite the firework displays. Apparently, he was quite the entertainer. The museum has some of the originals fireworks he used."

A long silence followed. I glanced up at Mister Big and Bad. A perturbed look crossed his dark grey face. "What game are you playing, girl?"

The sharpness of the tone in his voice, sent a shudder through me. I tried to keep my eye on the food in front of me. "What to do you mean?"

"Wizards do still exist," he started slowly, his voice and quiet warming with unbridle fury. "They are the bane of my existence! One is leading the last futile attempts of Men to deny me from my rightful claim to Middle-Earth as we speak!"

I gave him a dubious look. His eyes burned brighter. I swore I saw the candles above our heads flare with his declaration.

"Once I regain what has been lost, it will not matter," he replied, attempting to control his voice. He scrutinized me as he leaned back against his chair. "Have you heard of the Gandalf the Grey?"

I chewed slowly. Gandalf, Gandalf. That name rang a bell. "Gandalf The Grey played a major role in aiding the later to be King of Gondor, Aragorn, to reunite the Last Alliance of Men, Elves and Dwarves during the War of the Ring," I replied. "He was also considered a close friend of the Elves before they mysteriously vanished from Middle-Earth some years after the war. Not much is really known about Gandalf prior to the War of the Ring. There are references and images that suggest he might have been apart of the Dwarves driving out the Dragon, Smaug, out of Erebor and the war that came afterwards between the survivors of Laketown, the Elves of Mirkwood, and army of Orcs from the North, but there aren't specific details or dates left behind of where he came from, where he went after the War, or where he might have spent his last years on Earth. He's considered an historic enigma."

I glanced towards my captor. An unsettling silence penetrated the dining hall. His ember eyes burned brightly as he stared into the air in front of him, his scarred lips in a severe frown. The air suddenly became uncomfortably hot and a shiver ran up my spine. Alarm bells went off in the back of my head, whispering danger, danger! Run for it!

I instantly wanted to bolt from the room. Every nerve ending fired, screaming at me to run for my life! I forced myself to stay perfectly still.

"What about the fate of the Lord of Mordor?" he asked, his serpent like voice low and dangerously quiet.

I dreaded answering him. I swallowed and took a sip of wine. "Yow!" Why was the wine suddenly scolding hot?!

His predatory eyes darted to me. "What of the Lord of Mordor? What became of him?"

"Um, that's…. Well," I stammered. Please don't try to kill me again! Please don't try to kill me again! My heart hammered away in my chest. "He sort of perished… The tower of Barad-Bur collapsed after the ultimate weapon was cast back into the fires of Mount Doom! According to the ancient accounts that is and you never really know-!"

"Enough!" How could one word be so terrifying?!

That one word and I was already stumbling out of my chair and took shelter behind the high back, anticipating the worse, even though, rationally, I don't see why this guy would get so distraught over something that happened over seven hundred years ago. Unleash, he was somehow a descendant of Sauron, Dark Lord of Mordor, one of the most notorious tyrants to ever set foot on the soil of Middle-Earth, which could technically happen I guess. The historical records never said if they ever found the body of Sauron. There were myths surrounding him that said he was some kind of powerful entity, who formed out of the hatred and fears that poisoned the hearts' of men. Another legend said he was one of the fallen gods that hated and envied the race of Elves and Men because they were given Middle-Earth by the Gods to fashion to their liking.

I peeked out from the chair when the storm didn't come. The tension in the air still remained but apparently, he hadn't reached critical melt down yet.

My captor sat in his chair, perfectly straight and surprisingly composed considering how he reacted before whether I seemed to drop a bomb shell on something he wasn't particularly fond of. The calm demeanor freaked me out even worst!

"Return to you seat. It appears there is much you and I have to discuss," he said in an even tone.

Fear spread through my chest like the dead of winter and I fought to suppress a visible shudder. I carefully climbed back into the chair and folded my arms in front of me. I analyzed the ominous calm expression on his face.

I held back any question that surfaced on the tip of my tongue and waited. It was probably safer to let him start, than for me to accidentally press another button and find just how far someone of his temperament could be pushed before completely going homicidal on my ass again.