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Literature

Pale Horizon

~~~~~~~ Chp 14 – Definitely Not a Hobbit Hole That night, Saruman’s orcs poured out from the bowels of Isengard with cruel axes to hew fresh wood to stoke the furnaces of their master’s industry. Those furnaces belched their greasy black columns of smoke perpetually overhead. The whole vale reeked of their acrid stench. After some terrifying searching, I found a nook to hide in where they had already cleared all the trees. I reasoned they would have no purpose to return to a section of trees they had already cruelly harvested. At least I prayed they wouldn’t. But all that time, my heart was in anguish thinking of Grima facing that evil man alone. My imagination presented me with a thousand terrible things that could be happening to him. The guilt I felt at not being with him was a searing wound to my heart that ached continually. Even though I was sure that he must have used some of the witchery Saruman had taught him, his “wormtongue,” to make me stay behind. I understood his reasons, but it was quite a bitter pill to swallow to think he would do that to me. The ONE THING I had determined I would never do was leave him. In the heat of the moment, I hadn’t even considered that he would make me do that. That morning as, I hunkered in my hidey hole and tried to sleep, waiting for Grima to return, but desperately fearing I had lost him forever. A terrible dream came to me. It was like seeing the events of his departure all over again, but worse. I saw Grima scowling. The tiny worry lines at the corners of his eyes tight. For a moment, he hesitated, fighting his emotions and fears. But Saruman’s hold on him was still strong. A look of despairing resignation washed over his face. He rode down into the vale slumped in the saddle as if all vitality had drained out of him. He turned from me to face the dark spire. But this time, he only got as far as the entry steps before the doors swung open, and Saruman himself emerged from his lair. The wizard’s voice was somehow smoother than silk, almost narcotic. It was hushed and steady but somehow still loud enough to reverberate off the jagged walls of the tower, loud enough to fill the courtyard with an invisible chill. “I see you have brought my plans to ruin, Grima, my old friend. And now you slink back to me after heaping your failures at my feet? You reek of horse! Get off that creature and stand before me, worm!” Grima began to slowly dismount and cowed before the fires in his master’s blazing glower. It was not quite fast enough for the wizard’s patience. He drew a glittering, ivory-handled dagger from deep in his voluminous robes and slashed the saddle strap. Grima twisted in midair as he and the saddle went sprawling off the horse onto the ground. The traitorous maiar loomed over him and seemed to grow in stature. Simultaneously, Grima seemed to shrink into himself, truly reduced to nothing but an insect groveling at his master’s feet, sniveling too quietly for me to pick up his words. My heart was torn. I was battling with the insane urge to rush to Grima’s defense and the need to allow him to find closure with his villainous master. My heart pulled me to protect him. But once again, I was immobilized. I watched helplessly from my shadowy hiding place up on the hill. But seeing my precious Grima’s spirit broken before the former white wizard was so sickeningly cruel to observe. That dream then kept repeating and descended into various nightmarish ends. Other dreams were full of orcs finding me in the hiding spot. It is safe to say I got very little actual sleep, and such as I got was anything but restful. I didn’t know what to do. I felt so tiny and useless. By the following evening, I was almost out of water, and our precious supplies were down to stale crumbs and one bit of jerky. I was so muddy and bedraggled from hiding in the roots of an overturned tree stump. I tried to stay on the saddle blanket, but with the uneven ground and my constant tossing and turning, I was terribly uncomfortable. How I longed for those few days we had spent alone together, sleeping on relatively level ground. But those thoughts always led back to him stranding me alone and watching him ride off like a prisoner to his death sentence. The frustration led to so many tears I wondered if I was losing more water than I was drinking. I had to hide in the daylight, too. For always were Saruman’s crows flying about the tower, his evil eyes scanning the lands in watch for him. So, I hid as best as I could under an overarching bramble veil by the roots of where I crouched. I dragged them over like a sort of roof. It might have been an effective cover, burrowed in like a rabbit or a mouse in its secretive den. But it certainly didn’t feel like a place for a human. I was reminded again how it was the opposite of a hobbit hole and definitely didn’t mean comfort. It was dark, damp, prickly, and rather disgusting. And with no other thing to do but fester in rancid thoughts, I set my mind to another task, lampooning Tolkien’s poem Chip the Glasses and Crack the Plates.” Trick the mouse! Dirty her face! Toss her to a horde of orcs! That’s what Grima’s mousy hates I want Pippen’s salted pork Hehehe Put her to bed on gnarly roots Spiders move into her mane Put some crawlies in her boots Fill her with all kinds of pains That's what Grima’s mousy hates! So, carefully! Carefully with his mate! That last bit set me to giggling madly. It felt so presumptuous and selfish, but I loved it. It was a bit of a desperate distraction. But my heart really needed something, anything to cling to in those horrible moments. I still felt bound by the spell Grima’s wormtongue had woven over me. All I could do as he rode away from me was stand there as if rooted to the spot. But always, the sharp pang would return as soon I let myself think about how I might never see him again. If he stayed in that tower, he was just as doomed to die as he had been before! Everything I had done to save him would have been for nothing! My hands clutched at the broken roots around me in my hidey hole. And time just passed. “God, please, I feel so alone. Where are you?” It was a strange thought, but Grima’s dark words that he had used in his attempt to woo Eowyn rushed back to me. They seemed suddenly dangerously fitting for the moment, “But you are alone. Who knows what you have spoken to the darkness…” Those words, here in that very dark place, twisted like a knife in my heart.  Calling up a quick prayer, I pleaded, “God, please bring me peace and reassurance. And let me save Grima. Amen.” ————— author note:… I think we’re just going to get into the territory of my favorite chapters because quite honestly I love them all after this point, and you’ll understand I hope keep Reading. It only gets more interesting here on out. But what do you think is going to happen next? Do you think she should just wait outside the tower until Likely shows up and then just take him out or something? Or maybe she should break into the tower and rescue him herself on a stallion with magic coming out of her hands Yeah, but this is Lord of the rings, we don’t do that kind of magic . Sigh, thank you again so much for continuing to read. It has been an enjoyable time editing and rereading. I would like to gush with you guys about this if any guys are lord of the rings fans. Oh yes and don’t think I haven’t forgot about you. I am grateful that you constantly are willing to read my story comment and then favorites it. Thank you so much. You’re also a fellow fan.