The fight for Middle Earth begins as the Ring of Power has been found. Once forged by the Dark Lord Sidious himself, his watchful eye upholds an iron fist over the kingdoms while 9 servants, doomed to eternally serve the Dark Lord and the One Ring...
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Run!
"Come on, Artoo!"
"Run!"
"You've got this, Artoo! Run!"
Run!
He focused on the words his friends cried out for encouragement, frantically waving their arms with hands that beckoned for him to make it to the wooden raft that'd begun to slowly drift apart from the ferry's dock. Artoo replayed the notion in his thoughts, not caring that the soles of his feet were being scraped and prodded by fallen twigs and discarded stones while his puny hobbit legs carried him over the forest's wooded trail, striving to distance himself from the steed hot on his heels.
Lungs enflamed, burning like dragon's fire while his heart hammered against his chest, straining to pump the necessary blood into his veins from the amount of exertion it took to keep from falling victim to the hooves that pummeled the earth in his tracks. The raucous snorts and grunts of the animal merged with the rider's clanging armor, like the resonating sounds of swords clashing in a nearby battlefield.
The thunder rolling behind him intensified as he heard the mount of another dark rider join the chase and immediately followed by another. One of them let forth an agonizing, blood-curdling cry, sending a ripple effect of shivers along the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck. The sound nearly deafened his sense of hearing though he couldn't afford performing the simple act of covering his ears. He had to endure to the pain that was violently ringing in his ears, aiming to preserve his strength and focus on staying alive; otherwise, the quest he'd been tasked to carry out would nonetheless be for nothing.
For perplex reasons that remained entirely unknown, the weight of the silver chain around his neck, bearing the One Ring of power, had begun to feel the heaviest it'd ever felt since it came to be within his possession that morning. It was a worry that could undoubtedly be saved for pondering later. Now, he just needed to focus on reaching the waterfront.
"Come on, Artoo!" Threepio hollered, anxiously watching from the raft. While his friend had begun to draw close the pursuer dangerously closed further in to meeting its goal. Maintaining its grip on the reins with a single hand the adversary quickly extended the other armored hand, aiming for the back of Artoo's shoulder. It was one of those moments that surely felt like it'd been reeling in slow motion. "You're going to have to jump! Come on! It's almost on you!"
Artoo drew in a sharp breath, forcing himself to ample the drive he needed to fling himself several meters from the wooded-frame of the port onto the raft with his friends. With his attention wholly centered upon the timbered vessel, he used his feet to launch himself into the air at the exact moment he reached the edge of the pier, landing amongst safety on hands and knees with a bone-crumbling thud.
