Chương 89: [The Two Towers - Part 1]

The group settled in, everyone comfortable in the same seats as before. Luka had managed to find some popcorn earlier in the day while the Trio were at the village; they thought it would give them the true viewing experience the movie deserved. The screen moved from the menu to darkness, the picture slowly revealing a misty mountain as the view got closer and shouts could be heard from within.

The camera dove toward a tiny, jagged puncture in the side of the peak, and suddenly they were back on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm.

"Wait," Rika said, her hand pausing halfway to the popcorn bowl.

"That's Gandalf. We're back at the bridge." The scene from the first film played out, growing louder as the camera chased Gandalf down into the abyss. When he caught his sword in mid-air and began fighting the Balrog amidst a swarm of falling embers, Rika let out a sharp, breathless laugh.

"Look at him go! He's not just falling, he's fighting it." Her wings gave a quick, involuntary twitch against the back of the sofa. The combatants plummeted into a subterranean lake, the bass sending a ripple through the tea in Leo's hand. Then, the screen went white, and the roar of water was replaced by the sound of Frodo gasping for air in the Emyn Muil.

"Where are they?" Shai asked, watching the Hobbits struggle against the grey rocks.

"Emyn Muil. A huge rocky area; they're currently lost," Phil said. A pale, spindly shape began to crawl down the rock toward the sleeping Hobbits. Torren's eyes narrowed.

"What is that thing?"

"That's Gollum," Luka answered.

"He's the one who gave the name 'Baggins' to the enemy. He had the Ring for five hundred years before Bilbo stole it—that's why he had it at the start of the first movie." The Trio watched as Frodo and Sam trapped the creature with the Elven rope. Gollum shrieked at the touch of the cord, eventually promising to lead them to Mordor if they let him live.

"Is that really a good idea?" Rika asked.

"Trusting that?"

"They have no choice, really," Phil said.

"They've been wandering in circles for days. He's the only one who knows the way." The mood shifted as the camera cut to Aragorn with his ear to the dirt, the iconic music kicking in. Rika hummed along, tapping her knee.

"I love this music. It makes me want to go on a hunt." They watched the Three Hunters sprint across the plains, tracking the Uruks who held Merry and Pippin. When Gimli huffed that Dwarves were "natural sprinters," Rika laughed.

"I love this guy." When Legolas commented on the direction the Uruk-hai were headed, Parmo followed it with, "To Isengard! To Isengard!" making the other lads laugh while Shai looked on, confused.

"I'll explain that one later," Leo chuckled.

"Saruman has probably cast a spell on those Orcs," Torren noted, watching their relentless pace.

"Making them run faster and longer. That's why they're having such a hard time catching up." The movie showed the Uruks arguing with smaller Orcs from Mordor, a division Torren noted as "the death of any unit." Amidst the chaos of the march, Pippin managed to spit out his Elven brooch to leave a trail.

"I can't believe it," Rika said, impressed.

"He actually did something smart for once." A heavy silence passed over the Trio as the scene shifted, showing the workings of Saruman and the sacking of towns in Rohan. Next, they saw a muddy scene—the aftermath of one of these raids—where riders lifted the limp form of Prince Théodred from the silt.

"A kingdom without its heir," Torren murmured.

"That doesn't bode well." News reached the King, but instead of weeping for his son, he remained catatonic. Gríma Wormtongue was seen whispering in the King's ear.

"That horrible man. One of those riders should have put a spear in him," Rika snapped. Next, the Trio watched as the Orcs and Uruk-hai carrying the pair of Hobbits were ambushed in the night.

"NO!" Shai whispered as Pippin seemed to be stomped toward the ground by a horse. Back on the plains at dawn, a rumbling filled the speakers as a company of horsemen thundered onto the screen. The Three Hunters were quickly surrounded by a wall of spears.

"Is that really a good idea?" Rika asked as Aragorn stood to face them.

"They're a bit outnumbered." If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The leader, Éomer, demanded their business. When Gimli asked for his name first, Torren let out a low chuckle, and Shai smiled as Legolas drew his bow to defend the Dwarf.

"It's nice to see how much they stand for each other now," she said softly. Éomer took off his helmet, explaining that King Théoden no longer recognized his own kin and that those loyal had been banished. He told them the Uruks they chased were already dead—slain and burned in the night. The riders gave them two horses and galloped away, leaving the Three Hunters to head toward the smoking pile of bodies to confirm their worst fears.

They found a small, leather belt among the charred remains, and Aragorn, overcome with frustration, kicked a heavy Uruk helmet and let out a pained scream.

"You know, he actually broke his toe there?" Leo asked, leaning toward the Trio with a grin. The other lads burst out laughing.

"Couldn't help yourself, could you?" Sam asked.

"It's tradition!" Leo defended himself.

"You have to tell people on their first viewing." On screen, Aragorn tracked the disturbed dirt into Fangorn Forest. Torren let out a long, relieved breath.

"Thank the gods they're alive." Rika remained quiet, her expression caught between worry for the "little ones" and her usual skepticism. The camera found Merry and Pippin scrambling over roots to escape a surviving Orc, only for the "tree" they were climbing to wake up. Huge, mossy eyes opened, and a massive wooden hand crushed the Orc into the dirt.

"What in the..." Rika started, her eyes wide.

"That's Treebeard," Luka explained.

"He's an Ent. A race of tree-folk." Torren looked mesmerized.

"What a wondrous creature," he whispered.

"A living tree... my people would be amazed at the thought." Treebeard's voice was like stones grinding together as he grumbled about "little Orcs." The Hobbits desperately tried to explain they were something else, but Treebeard wasn't convinced.

"The White Wizard will know," he rumbled, eventually dropping the Hobbits in a clearing before a tall figure cloaked in blinding white.

"No," Shai whispered, her hand going to her mouth.

"Not Saruman. Not after they got that far." The Trio tensed, convinced the Hobbits had just walked straight back into the enemy's hands. The scene switched over to the Dead Marshes, where Frodo and Sam were following Gollum. The camera panned over spectral bodies floating beneath the stagnant water.

"Gods, what was that?" Rika asked as Frodo fell in and saw the screaming ghosts.

"The area is cursed," Luka said.

"The ghosts of an old war that want others to join them." The quiet of the marshes was shattered by a piercing screech. Frodo collapsed, clutching his old wound as a Nazgûl appeared on a winged Fellbeast. The Trio winced at the familiar sound, watching as Sam stopped Frodo from succumbing to the Ring's influence. The scene shifted back to the Three Hunters as they stepped cautiously into the ancient, gnarled heart of Fangorn.

Legolas paused, his eyes darting to the canopy as he whispered that the trees were speaking to each other. A deep, grinding sound of shifting wood echoed through the speakers. On screen, Gimli gripped his axe in a defensive stance, only for Aragorn to quietly tell him to lower it.

"We are not alone," Legolas warned, his voice tight.

"The White Wizard approaches."

"Do not let him speak," Aragorn hissed to his companions.

"He will cast a spell on us." The tension in the living room spiked. The Trio leaned forward, watching as the hunters gripped their weapons. Suddenly, the screen exploded into a blinding white flash. Gimli let out a roar and flung a throwing axe; Legolas loosed an arrow in a blur of motion. The Wizard simply flicked a hand, deflecting the axe and shattering the arrow mid-air before heating Aragorn's sword until the Ranger was forced to drop it.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits," the Wizard spoke, his voice carrying the unmistakable, cold edge of Saruman.

"They met someone they did not expect."

"Show yourself!" Aragorn shouted, shielding his eyes. As the light faded, a figure stepped forward, cloaked in shimmering white robes. The long hair and beard were unmistakable. It was Gandalf. The living room erupted. Rika jumped so violently she slapped the bowl of popcorn right out of Parmo's hands, sending white kernels flying through the air like confetti. Shai let out a high-pitched, joyous squeal, clutching her cheeks, while Torren surged to his feet.

"BY THE GODS! HE'S ALIVE!" Torren shouted, his voice nearly drowning out the TV. On screen, a stunned Aragorn whispered, "It cannot be... you fell." The movie flashed back, showing the impossible scale of the battle—Gandalf pursuing the Balrog from the deepest subterranean lakes to the highest, frozen peak of the world. He smote his enemy, only for darkness to take him. He explained he had been sent back until his task was done.

"Wait, did he die or not?" Rika asked, eyes wide as she ignored the mess on the floor.

"He did," Luka explained, trying to suppress a grin at the carnage of popcorn.

"But God brought him back. He's actually kind of like an angel." He saw their confused looks and tried again.

"Erm, imagine he's like a general, created by the god of this world. When he died, that god still had need of him, so he sent him back. He's in white now because he's replaced Saruman as the head of the order."

"The boss found out the old manager was corrupt and sent the veteran back to fix it," Phil added.

"Something like that." Gandalf assured the hunters that the Hobbits were safe, adding that they were "safer than you are about to be." He let out a sharp whistle, and a magnificent, silvery-white horse thundered across the plains toward them.

"Oh, so he has a cool white horse now to go with the new look?" Rika asked, finally settling back into the cushions.

"Yeah man," Phil said, nodding appreciatively.

"His ride's gotta match the drip." Parmo looked over at him, deadpan.

"Have you heard yourself?

'Drip?' Come on, man, you're nearly forty." The other lads broke out into laughter, the tension of the forest fully broken by the bickering on the sofa.