Deliver Us From Evil

Luckily, we reached the pile of orc carcasses quickly. A severed head was impaled on a pike and I thought of the irony of how humans considered these creatures to be violent. The smell made me gag and I fought the urge to puke. I wondered if this was similar to the smell of concentration camps or if burning human flesh smelled even worse.

Boromir’s eyes empathized with my disgust on the matter. He was a victim to sharp senses as well. Legolas couldn’t have been faring much better.

Both Boromir and I changed back to our human forms, which meant we needed to get dressed. I leaned against Wyn, the dark brown mare, as I tugged on my black breeches. I held onto her reins to make sure she didn’t walk away and expose me to the others. I let go of her to pull my dark blue tunic over my head. Before changing, I had warned her not to move until I was dressed.

“Alright,” I said, patting her long neck, “we’re good.” I buckled a black belt around my waist and fastened Adonnenniel to it. I paused and searched the ground. “Where are my boots?” I called to the others.

“Right here,” Boromir said, walking around Wyn. He handed me my boots and steadied me with his hand as I pulled them on.

Turning our gazes to the dead, we searched for any sign of them. Looking for a specific scent would be useless. Gimli took his axe to push aside armor and dead flesh. Pulling something charred out by hand, he said softly, “It’s one of their wee belts.”

Legolas mumbled in Elvish and even though I didn’t know what he said, I shared the emotion in his tone. I felt guilt from being weak and not having the strength to run endlessly through the night. Had we been just hours ahead, we could have saved them ourselves.

Angrily, Aragorn kicked a helmet. He screamed in rage, tightening his hands into fists and falling to his knees. I wanted to comfort him and I suddenly wished to be in dog form as it would have been more appropriate to cuddle against him. But licking his face as a person was just weird and disturbing.

“We failed them,” Gimli said.

Aragorn then seemed to take an interest in the ground. With his knees still in the dirt, he touched the earth and traced his hands over something I could not see. “A hobbit lay here, and the other.”

My chest ached as he recounted their last moments. I turned away as if to distance myself from the scene. I pressed my forehead into Boromir’s shoulder. His hand touched my back, not enough to pull me into him, but I could tell he wanted to.

“They crawled. Their hands were bound.”

A sob tore at my throat. I hated listening to his words. Tears leaked through my shut eyes and I shuddered against Boromir.

“Their bonds were cut,” he said more hopefully.

I turned sharply toward them. I could see through the blur in my wet eyes that they had wandered off a bit as Aragorn tracked them. I marched forward, wiping roughly at my cheeks. Boromir’s footsteps followed behind me.

Aragorn searched the ground, following the past. His tracking skills never ceased to amaze me. “They ran over here. They were followed.” We were jogging after him now. “The tracks lead away from the battle…” We stopped in front of a forest, the trees looming over us. I couldn’t quite describe it, but the place was dark and set me on edge. “...into Fangorn Forest.”

“Fangorn Forest, what madness drove them there?” Gimli asked in shock.

“Well, a battle,” I stated. “While the woods are giving off some serious creepy vibes, why is it so terrible?”

“Darkness is in the air of Fangorn Forest, Lady Daisy,” Gimli the Soothsayer said.

“We have no other choice,” Aragorn declared, “we must enter this realm.”

Boromir placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. After a glance from his king, he quickly removed it.

Into the woods we went. While dark and scary, Fangorn Forest lost a portion of its terror without the tales. As someone who didn’t know the stories, I was having a hard time telling if my chances of being a victim were increased or decreased. The ground was covered in unearthed roots and rocks. I constantly kept my eyes on the floor and watched my step. Once or twice Boromir had to grasp my elbow to stop me from falling.

Gimli touched a leaf with black goo on it. Much to my disgust, he licked his fingers, spat, and said, “Orc blood!”

“Y’know,” I said, “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this movie before.”

“Movie?” Boromir asked.

“Uh, play, I guess. A play is the closest way to describe it. But I’ve seen this scenario played out dozens of times in horror mov- uh, plays. A group of characters go into the creepy woods and are picked off one by one. Usually the cast is a bit younger and not so diverse in species, also stupid, but I think we can make do. Of course, as the only female in the group, I have to take the role of being the favorite character because my job is to be sexualized and almost treated like a person with feelings that the audience can relate to. Which means I’ll survive this. The rest of you, you won’t make it. Whoever is in the back will die first. Wait, shit, I’m in the back. Uh, can you guys slow down a bit? I think I’m gonna-”

“Daisy,” Aragorn cut me off, “shh!”

“Sorry,” I whispered. I could see Boromir’s lips twitching as he fought off a smile.

Aragorn, ever the tracker, crouched down and said, “These are strange tracks.”

“The air is so close in here,” Gimli observed more than complained.

“This forest is old, very old. Full of memory… and anger,” Legolas riddled for us.

I opened my mouth for a sarcastic reply, but snapped it shut as a load groan sounded through the forest. It hummed within the earth. Gimli picked up his axe, ready to defend himself.

“Is someone playing the didgeridoo?” I asked rhetorically. I was ignored.

“The trees are speaking to each other,” Legolas said with a bit of panic.

“Gimli!” Boromir hissed at him, startling to dwarf. “Lower your axe,” he commanded with a gesture. The son of Gloin let it slowly slip in his grasp.

“They have feelings, my friend,” Legolas explained as if that made any sense. “The elves began it. Waking up the trees, teaching them to speak.”

“Talking trees,” Gimli said with a masked “of fucking course.” “What do trees have to talk about? Hmm? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings?”

Legolas said something in Elvish and his tone worried me. He picked up his pace but stopped, peering around suspiciously. Aragorn went to his side and I joined them. He asked something in Elvish and I felt really out of the loop. “The White Wizard approaches,” Legolas prophesied.

“Do not let him speak,” Aragorn warned quietly. “He will put a spell on us.” He drew his sword, Boromir and I copying his actions. Legolas readied an arrow. “We must be quick.”

In unison, we turned and a bright light broke through the trees. The dark forest was illuminated like someone turned on a giant, high powered light bulb. Legolas shot an arrow, but it was instantly deflected. Aragorn, Boromir, and I found our swords hot to the touch, making us drop them. I squinted at the light, but I very much doubted my eyes could adjust to it and I was focused to look away.

“You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits,” the White Wizard said, his voice sounding like it had been scrambled electronically.

“Where are they?” Aragorn demanded to know.

“They passed this way, the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?”

“Who are you?” the king asked. “Show yourself!”

The light instantly faded and my heart leapt to my throat. Tears sprang to my eyes as Gandalf stood before us. He appeared to have gotten a makeover; his hair was white and straightened, his robes were also white, and so was his staff!

“It cannot be,” Aragorn gasped.

“Forgive me,” Legolas pleaded, “I mistook you for Saruman.” He bowed, Gimli and Boromir doing the same. Driven by peer pressure, I knelt to the ground as well.

“I am Saruman,” he said simply. “Or rather, Saruman as he should have been.”

“You fell,” Aragorn said, still in disbelief.

“Through fire, and water. On the lowest dungeon, on the highest peak, I fought him, the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. The stars field of end, and every day was as long as a life age on the earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I’ve been sent back until my task is done.”

This explanation sent me into a daze as I tried to make sense of it. He mentioned a mountainside even though we had been in Moria. And another thing: I had been raised Christian and while my beliefs changed when I learned of monsters, this gave me troubled thoughts about religion and the afterlife.

“Gandalf,” Aragorn breathed, stepping closer to him.

“Gandalf?” he asked, as if hearing the name for the first time. He paused, then smiled. “That is what they used to call me.” Aragorn nodded in confirmation. “Gandalf the Gray: that is my name.”

“Gandalf,” Gimli said, happy tears in his eyes.

“I am Gandalf the White, and I come back to you now at the turn of the tide.”

We walked briskly through the woods, retracing our steps. I followed the conversation quietly. Apparently, we were headed for Rohan and Gandalf knew how to cure the king. He told us that Merry and Pippin were safe and he mentioned something called ents. The amount of creatures in Middle-Earth never ended it seemed.

Once we left Fangorn Forest and reclaimed our horses, Gandalf faced the plains and whistled. The sound was musical and certainly magical. Had I not already been by his side, I would’ve dropped everything and run to him.

A neigh sounded from the distance and a beautiful white horse galloped towards us. My knowledge of the of these four-legged beasts was limited, but this steed had an otherworldly beauty. If Lady Galadriel was a horse, I thought to myself. It’s just shy a horn of being a unicorn.

“That is one of the mearas unless my eyes are cheated by some spell,” Legolas said in amazement.

“Shadowfax,” Gandalf introduced him. “He’s the lord of all horses and has been my friend through many dangers.” He stroked his long, white neck when the magic horse approached us.

“Is he anything like a unicorn?” I asked. At the confused expressions I was getting, I explained, “It’s a magical, and mythical, horse with a long, sharp horn on its forehead. They’re said to be healers and immortal.” I paused. “And only virgins can ride them since they’re so pure.” Trying to escape the awkwardness that ensued from that last sentence, I went to Wyn’s side.

“Ready?” Boromir asked. I nodded and he gestured me to mount her.

“Uh,” I stupidly droned, flicking my gaze from the stirrup to the saddle. I had never ridden a horse before.

I heard him chuckle at me. “Here, allow me to assist you, my lady.” Suddenly, he grabbed me around the waist and picked me up like I was a doll. I was settled into the saddle within a second. Terrified I was going to fall from such a tall height, I clenched my legs around Wyn, causing her to snort. Boromir mounted her swiftly and sat behind me. My back rested on his chest and my ass was pressed against his crotch. I sat in between his thighs and the whole thing felt extremely intimate. To make matters worse, his hand laid against my belly and drew me closer while his other hand grabbed the reins.

I never really noticed how large Boromir was compared to me. His hand seemed to cover my entire stomach. His chin tapped the top of my head as we rode on. His thighs were thick and constricted against my much thinner ones. Muscles were hidden under his clothing, but I could feel them in his arms and stomach. His chest was as broad as my shoulders and I swore I could feel every curve of it against my back.

I felt shame and embarrassment of the hot flash that stirred between my legs from his closeness. But the jostling of the mare underneath us imitated certain movements. The worry of Merry and Pippin was now on the edge of my mind as Boromir took over. I was practically panting at the one sided sexual tension. I made a mental note to add fucking on a horse to my bucket list.

I could feel him tense behind me and I thought I heard him sniffling. Fear that he could smell my hot, sticky desire clouded my thoughts. His heated breath brushed against my ear and he whispered huskily, “I feel the lust too.”

My eyelids drooped at his words. I squeezed his hand that was holding me to him. “Later,” I whispered back. “The moment we are alone I will have you.” I could feel him become excited and I fought the urge to moan and grind against him.

The others rode on obliviously.

***

We reached Edoras the morning of the next day. Wooden gates fenced the capital and a green flag, trimmed in red with a white horse on it flew to the ground as we entered the city. I considered stopping for it, but I did not want to slow down what was left of the Fellowship.

I cursed whoever's idea it was to build a city on the side of a mountain, small as it was. I was forced to lean backwards on Wyn and into Boromir. The imbalance was uncomfortable and made me constantly feel like I was suspended and about to fall.*

I couldn’t help but notice the black themed clothing of the citizens as they stared at us. I was tempted to make a quip and asked who died, but I feared the response I would get in return.

“You’d find more cheer in a graveyard,” Gimli commented.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” I muttered to him.

We were forced to dismount our steeds and give them over to the stable hands. I stroked Wyn’s face and ran my fingers through her black mane. “I’ll miss you, Wyn. I swear to visit when I can,” I promised. She nickered at me and ran her soft, furry lips over my hand. “You’d better take good care of her,” I threatened the young man who was taking her from me. “If you don’t, I swear my wrath will rain down and you will certainly feel it.” I made my tone sharp and the boy looked terrified.

“Yes, my lady,” he practically squeaked.

“See you soon, dearie,” I cooed to her before taking my leave.

After exiting the stables, I looked up at the staircase leading to Meduseld, the great Golden Hall. Boromir stepped next to me and put a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Not much farther now.”

I glanced over at him. “We’ve just started.”