My blades slashed through limbs of the foul mutants known as Orcs – creatures who at one point been a part of my kin but had allowed the dark forces to consume them completely – without feeling any remorse. The Ents fought by my side, throwing large boulders at those who stood in their way. Uncontrollable emotions poured from me, pure emotions: pure anger, pure hate, pure grief. This caused magic to ripple from my fingers; violent, raw magic.
“A hit! A fine hit!” Treebeard’s voice roared, filtering from through the chaos, even with the great distance between us I could still hear him clearly with a flick of my wrist.
With a flick of my wrist, a wave of Orcs was destroyed by a wall of fire. At the same time, the dying plains of grass rose up from their withered state and wrapped themselves around the ankles of the fleeing beasts; keeping them in place so that they could meet their fiery end. I watched as some of the Orcs shot blazing arrows at one of the Ents; causing it to catch on fire. My eyes widened at this but I could do little to assist for Athae reared up slightly and I quickly gripped the reigns with one hand so that I could stay in the saddle whilst I fought off the brutes. However I was thrown off, violently hitting the hard earth, as Athae bucked; quickly fleeing so she could escape to the woods.
Selflessly, I threw myself into the path of the Orcs, taking their blows from their crooked steels. One hit me in the gut and even though the adrenaline coursed through my blood like liquid fire, a groan slipped from my lips as the pain rocketed through my body. Short breaths filled my lungs. In a single, fluid movement I catapulted myself into the air and gambolled as if I was under water; slicing and slashing at the bodies beneath me. A liquid trickled down the side of my head and dropped to the earth. A line of red diamonds trailing behind me. Beads of glistening sweat clung to my brow and a heavy breath spilled hotly from between clenched lips as I dropped to the ground; dead orcs behind me.
“Brave the dam!” Treebeard ordered, “Release the river!”
An exhausted scream left my lips as more Orcs waddled towards me. My eyes narrowed into slits as I racked in a breath and then launched myself into battle once more. Slice after slice. Flick after flick. Cut after cut. I fought. It only took minutes, probably two at the most, but to me it stretched on for hours. I didn’t stop when they deeply cut me in the top of my left arm. I didn’t stop when I fell to the ground and had my good hand stomped on, breaking my wrist. I only stopped what the easily recognisable sound of rushing water filled my ears. I watched as the water flew down the ravine towards the black obsidian Orthanc. The dazzling blue water shone in the light as it consumed everything in sight. The Orcs who had circled me had fled and there was no high ground within near reach; meaning that I had no means of escape.
Suddenly, a tingling sensation ran up my arm and I stared at the ends of my fingers. A smile growing on my face, I extended my arms in front of me – ignoring the pain – and closed my eyes. As the water engulfed me, I took a single breath and braced myself for the bone crushing sensation of thousands and thousands of gallons of water slamming into my petite body. But nothing happened.
Surprised I cautiously opened my eyes and released a breath of air I was holding in in a loud gasp; my eyes the size of horseshoes. The water was surrounding me, its height reaching the tips of my ears, yet it was not covering me. I was in a circle of air that stretched just past my fully extended arms. It just didn’t seem possible. Yet I was looking through the circle as if I was stood in a glass orb for I could see the limb bodies of Orcs and Uruks of all shapes and sizes floating past; being swept away by the current of the fast flowing water. Time seemed to slow down around me; the yells of the Ents, the tormented screams from the drowning Orcs and the shrieks of fear from my Hobbits as they called my name all seemed to suddenly slow down.
Then, a bright, white light flashed down in front of my eyes; blinding me. And suddenly there was silence.
The light faded from me. Yet it still filled my eyes and for a moment I truly believed that I was blind. Thankfully, this sensation quickly subsided and I was able to see a beautiful hall that seemed to be made of pure starlight. It was wonderful. Pure white pillars made of pure marble twirled up to the spotless ceiling that held a beautiful, spiralling chandelier. The walls were plain, yet shimmered in the light as if it had a thousand crystals encrusted into it.
It was then that I noticed that the pain had subsided. My wrist seemed to have been magically fixed back into place and the top of my other arm was healed almost as if the incident had never happened in the first place – yet a faint scar ran across it meaning that the wound had been real. Instinctively, I lifted my hand and ran it across the back of my head, the stickiness of dried blood did not run across my fingers; although there was a tender lump at the top right of my skull. Someone, or something, had almost completely healed me.
Slowly I rose to my feet and even though my mind did not comprehend the movement, slowly my legs travelled down the glowing white pathway. I walked without knowing where exactly it was that I was going. The corridor was long and white, much like the rest of the palace, and led to another pure white room. In front of me there was a platform that held fifteen thrones that curved inwards in a semi-circle. These thrones seated the fifteen most beings in our world; the Lords and Queens of the Valar. In the middle the most powerful could be found, and the less important fanned the outside.
The centre seated Manwë, the King of the Valar. He looked old, his hair white and his eyes surrounded by wrinkles. On his right sat his bride, Queen of the Stars; Varda. Her skin was as pale as the light of the orbed moon, her long blond hair shining as fiercely as a close up star and her eyes sparkling like the ever glowing light of the stars; her beauty was unparalleled to any that I had ever seen in my life. On Manwë’s left sat the most powerful of all the Valar, the Dark Power; Morgoth. His eyes were as deep and black as the darkest sky. His hair slick and shoulder length but as dark as the obsidian rock of the Orthanc. Yet his face was quite handsome; easily he would be able to make any young maiden fall weak at her knees to him and bend to his every will. His chin and cheek bones chiselled perfectly.
All looked upon me with their deep stares that bore into my soul completely. Instantly I dropped to one knee and bowed my head, knowing that only one who was truly worthy was blessed enough to stair upon their immortal faces.
“Rise, my child,” A soft, female voice announced, “There is much to discuss.”
Cautiously, I rose to my feet and stared at those who had spoken. It was the Queen of the Stars who had addressed me. Her immortal face more beautiful than any I had ever seen in all my long years of life.
“We have summoned you hear for a reason at that reason is this. We believe that you are ready!”
“Ready for what, my lady?”
“To receive what you have yearned for all these years, my dear.”
A breath hitched in my throat as my eyes widened. I did not speak a word – I could not speak a word; I only stared.
“You have acted selflessly to defend those who are weaker than yourself and the innocents that you surround yourself with,” The King explained, his voice old and weathered, yet still commanding.
“And willingly fought to defeat all those who would oppose you,” Morgoth commented with a snarling grin plastering his malicious face.
“Therefore we have come to the decision that we shall bless you with the powers of the Istari,” Manwë decreed.
“On the day when Curunír falls, that is the day when you, my dear child, shall become one of their number officially,” Varda expressed, her eyes sprinkled with starlight.
Still no words left my lips but my eyebrows had furrowed slightly as I understood their words.
“Do you understand, dear one?”
“Yes,” I managed to whisper whilst my brain ticked over, trying to comprehend their words, “Thank you.”
“However,” Morgoth snapped, instantly gathering my attention, “These will only stay with you if your supposed Dark Lord is destroyed. His Ring must be destroyed. As must his other form.”
Morgoth stared at me as if I was some sort of idiotic creature who could not even lace their own boots let alone have the nerve to talk to one such as he.
“When he created the Rings for your kin, the mortal men and the Dwarves, Sauron disguised himself as Mairon.”
“I remember,” I murmured thinking how he had fooled us all those years ago; once more cursing my precise memory.
“Mairon crafted these rings to consume all races of your world. Only the men were weak enough to fall for it. It is this form that has become physical once more. Mairon must be destroyed in order for the Ring to be destroyed; therefore destroying the Eye. Only you can do this. At the final battle you must be there, in Mordor, to fight him; and if you do not destroy him then none can survive.”
“I do not mean to offend you, my Lord,” I boldly announced, looking him straight in the eye, “But surely you would be able to extinguish his powers considering he was your servant before your fall.”
As soon as the words left my lips, I instantly knew that I had made a mistake; regretting that I did not bite my tongue instead of allowing my mouth to work without any thought of the consequences. The room suddenly lost its pure glow and seemed to darken around me; the darkness pouring from the dark robes of the Dark Power. Morgoth stared at me with a dark glare, his eyes wide enabling me to see the pure, red flame that danced and flickered in his irises. His voice was laced with venom yet his speech was calm and slow; but no less terrifying.
“Do not doubt my skill. I am more powerful than you could possibly imagine. With a mere flick of my wrist I could destroy you. Whilst the Ring is in existence, I cannot destroy him for he was cunning enough to ensure that the Ring can only be destroyed in the place that it was created; the fires of Mount Doom. By doing this he ensured its safety from us, meaning that we are unable to do anything until someone can fight its clutch and destroy it there. The Ring can only be destroyed when someone of equal power – no more, no less – can fight his past form and destroy. Then, and only then, can I relinquish my powers onto him. Understand?”
“Of course, my lord,” I mumbled, bowing my head out of shame – and slight fear.
The room almost instantly returned to its natural brightness and the Queen of Stars smiled calmly down at me.
“Heed our words, princess,” She said softly, “You and you alone can destroy Mairon. If you do not find a way, no one will.”
And as soon as she finished her words, the bright light descended upon me and the immortal faces of the Valar vanished from my sight.
Once the light had ascended back into the heavens, I saw that I was once more in Isengard. I was not, however, surrounded by the circle of water that stretched up to the tips of my ears. I was stood on a boulder, surrounded completely by glistening blue water. In front of me, I could see a reflection of myself that startled me. I was donned in a bright red cloak. A Lothlorien wood staff with a blood red crystal on top was tightly held in grip; something that I had not even realised was in my grip until then. It was my hair, though, that caused me to gasp in shock. Although it was still curly and orange but flaming red streaks covered certain sections.
Tearing my eyes away, I observed my flooded surroundings and glared up at the fear obvious in his eyes; visible even with this great distance between us.
A soft breeze flew into my face, blowing my hair back. There I stood, my feet a shoulder width apart with one arm held straight and the other bent at the elbow whilst I held my new staff. I craned my neck slightly so that I could comfortably stare up at the terrified tyrant with a glare printed on my fair face.
And that was how the Battle of Isengard ended. The Ents patrolling the murky waters with ease under Treebeard’s stern gaze whilst Merry and Pippin investigated the ruins of Isengard. I just stood there, standing on that boulder, glaring up at the Orthanc; feeling slightly at ease – even if it was only for that moment - since one villain was powerless.
Perhaps we would be able to successful win this war, after all.