You've undoubtedly heard the tale of Robin Hood, but what if I was to tell you they got it all wrong?
First of all, Robin is female.
{All characters other than my own belong to J. R. R. Tolkien}
Chapter soundtrack: 'Live Like Legends' by Ruelle, as requested by Silver_Sagittarius .
♪ = cue music
† Chp. LII †
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Frodo lays pinned against the hard earth of Mordor, the ring becoming unbearably heavy as he hides from the dreaded view of Sauron's flaming eye. Mount Doom is so close, yet reaching it will be impossible with the land constantly surveyed by the sights of evil.
He breathes out with ragged, fearful breathes, losing his grip on hope as even the encouraging words of Sam are not enough to lift Frodo to his feet.
Though, the hobbits are unaware of the nine riders who approach the black gates of Mordor, an army of many courageous armoured men standing behind.
"Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!" Aragorn shouts, bringing his steed to halt before the dark, looming gates which guard the entrance to Mordor. "Let justice be done upon him!"
An eery silence fills the still air, as each rider glances up in both anticipation and angst, before the tall, spiked gates creak open in a low groan. From the gap, a dark rider appears, an aura of evil seeping from the metal clad figure of Sauron's lieutenant.
"My master Sauron the great bids thee welcome." The evil entity greets in a sinister, low rumble. Beneath the metal helmet, only a mouth can be seen, and the lieutenant bears its teeth in a mock smile, revealing a horrific maul of decaying ivory.
Aragorn raises his brows in a slight grimace, clearly unimpressed by the grotesque appearance.
"Ever heard of Colgate buddy?" Robin pipes up from the side, rather amused by the grizzly sight.
"Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?" The mouth of Sauron remarks, ignoring the humoured remark of the outlaw.
"I'll treat you to a dentist." Robin mutters beneath her breath.
"We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed. Tell your master this." Gandalf speaks, power evident in his voice. "The armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return."
"Aha! Old Greybeard!" The evil entity growls with a sinister, toothy smile. "I have a token I was bidden to show thee."
The sun catches upon a shirt of white metal which the mouth of Sauron holds up for all to see. It is mithril, incredibly rare and worth the fortune of the whole shire, a gift from Thorin Oakenshield and worn by one particular halfling.
