Title: Taking the Shortcut
Summary: in other words, having a Willow is good for the health.
Disclaimer: nope, not mine. none of them. *sigh*
“Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate – this one doom.”
The words echoe off the walls around the secret gathering, chilling the hearts of those present. Together they are again, Elves, Men, Dwarves and Hobbits, threatened by the same enemy. With a regal gesture, Elrond commands.
“Bring forth the Ring, Frodo.”
Heavy are his steps as the young Hobbit comes forth to do as asked. The ring makes but a small clink as it is placed on the stone pedestal, yet in the silence it seems ten times as loud. Murmurs sweep around the ones gathered, their hearts fearful. The One Ring is there, in their midst. They have but to reach out a hand and they would touch it.
“It is a gift! A gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring?” Boromir says as he stands. “Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!” he urges.
“You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.” is Aragorn’s answer.
“And what would a ranger know of this matter?”
“This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.” Legolas defends his friend.
“Aragorn? This... is Isildur's heir?” Boromir incredulously asks.
“And heir to the throne of Gondor.” the Elf Prince wastes no time in adding some more.
“Havo dad Legolas” *Sit down Legolas* Aragorn asks.
With loathe in his voice, Boromir makes his feelings known as he moves back to his seat.
“Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king.”
“Aragorn is right. We cannot use it.” ever the voice of reason, Gandalf intervenes.
“You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed.”
Elrond’s statement spurs Gimli into action.
“What are we waiting for?” he says as he picks up his axe and swings it down at the nefarious ring.
The Dwarf is flung back as the axe shatters into small pieces while no mark is left on the ring. Elrond’s voice fills the clearing anew.
“The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came.”
A tentative voice is heard.
“So, just throw it into the lava and that’s it?” green eyes travel to those of Elrond, awaiting his nod, then turn to Gandalf. “And this Mount Doom is...?”
It takes the redheaded pixie only a couple of seconds to pick the information out of the old Wizard’s head, and then she smiles.
“Well, why didn’t you say so?”
She stands up, her light green dress flowing delicately as she moves. She watches the ring with a raised eyebrow, snorting at its attempts to create discord. Her arms raise, palms open and facing each other as she chants softly under her breath. Before the amazed eyes of those gathered, a small ball of energy appears between the witch’s hands, tendrils of light dancing on its surface. Inside of it molten lava starts to gather, swirling around like the sea during a storm.
“Willow, what is the meaning of this?” Elrond asks, trying to make sense of this young woman’s actions. She only grins at him, winking cheekily.
And with that her attention turns back to the ring. There are gasps around her as the ring slowly floats up, moving above the energy sphere. It stops there for a second before falling suddenly, through the light barrier and into the lava. In a blink of an eye it has molten into nothingness. The sphere glows white and disappears.
“So, is there anything else I can help with?” Willow asks, a huge grin on her face. As she receives no answer, she goes on. “No? Ok then, I’m gonna go eat something now ‘cause I’m hungry.”
A cheery wave of her delicate fingers and she’s gone, soft clicks following her down the stone corridor.
Back at the gathering, Lord Elrond is just trying to figure out how to close his gaping mouth. The others have similar problems, along with bulging eyes and fish mouth syndrome. In the distance a low boom is heard as the eye of Sauron implodes.