A small crowd had gathered around him. They greedily ate the bread he had laid down on the ground in front of his wood box perch. He held a book above his head. He didn't read from the book. He couldn't; he had no eyes. His clothes were tattered but he had a leather jacket that hung below the knees. He had a walking staff with crystals hanging from string from the end. A large purse was slung over one shoulder. This work camp was like the others with high chainlink fence and manned towers. It was no longer to keep the workers from escaping, the walls were to protect the soldiers and the workers from the Others.
" And the Lord sayeth unto them, go to the Land of Shadows, and cast your burden into the fire. Do not fear those that live under the ground, or those that fly in the air on their evil steeds of death and iron. The two servants of God left their home and families and ventured forth. There were others that left with them, but they were led astray, or cast aside. They did meet up with one, a guide that led them into The Dark Lords lair. Like Cain and Abel, the two servants of God fought. But they carried on and eventually cast their burden and their sins into a lake of fire.
The fields outside the gates were now mostly barren, and a shanty town of plywood shacks had sprung up. A polluted stream ran by behind the rows. The workers were now free to go, but the soldiers knew they wouldn't go far. Without the soldiers guns, the workers would become food, and without the workers the soldiers would have no one to work the land to get what withered vegetables to grow they could. Dogs lounged in shadows in the alleys, and there was a plague of stray cats. That would be fixed soon, if the next shipment of food got cancelled again. There was even a set of batwing doors that led to a larger building were people gathered to gamble, smoke their pipe and huff paint. If it wasn't for the tanks parked next to the buildings ( long ago out of gas ) it almost looked like a old west town.
" The Apostles fought with Our Lord in The Battle of Five Armies, and the enemy was defeated. The two servants had gained valuable time in which to finish their quest, which they did. The Angel Elrond led his armies into battle on the side of Men, and many died therein. "
The Holy man didn't see the soldiers that pulled up next to his group, even as they unloaded from the truck but he heard them. He knew his time was short. Maybe this time, he figured, they would do more than put his eyes out. He was not afraid. He knew god waited for him in The Grey Havens. He had faith.
" Let us pray. "
Some among the crowd walked away when the soldiers pulled up. The others were regulars, and stayed to listen, not just for the food. He felt the sin of pride; he had disciples.
" Our Lord Gandolf, who sent us his two servants Frodo and Sam to carry our burdens, please forgive us for our sins. We bear the Spiritual Ring, oh Lord, as your servants did, so long ago. Protect us from the Orcs and giant spiders, oh Lord. Send our King Aragorn to protect us in our hour of need."
A soldier marched up and stopped before the Holy man. The others now had their rifles raised and pointed at the group of listeners. The soldier drew a sword and yelled, " 停止現在，您沒有被批准講話! 投下那本書，否则我將切掉您的手! "
The Holy man paused, unsure of what the soldier was saying. He shrugged.
" Send us the Ents, oh Lord, to smash the enemies castles. Give us..."
The sword flashed in the sun and the hand holding the book fell to the ground, still clutching it. The soldier pointed his sword at the man and shouted, " 下次它將是子彈到頭。 沒有警告! " They paused to beat some of the onlookers with their rifle butts before getting back into their truck. The Holy man clutched his bleeding wrist. A follower wrapped twine about it and tightened it up to stop the bleeding. What was left of the bread was now a deep, dark red because of all the blood.
" I am not afraid! They can take my eyes, but Lord Gandolf helps me see. They can take my hands, but he will help me! Who shall be my eyes? "
He paused and his head moved, as if he was looking around the crowd. Their faces turned away. The scarred red holes where his eyes used to be were unnerving.
" Who shall be my hands? "
For a long moment there was silence. Then a boy pushed his way through the crowd, or what was left of it. He was young, but no child. Maybe nine years old. He was skinny and had sores on his flesh and greasy matted hair, like everybody else. He pried the book out of the severed hands fingers and held it up to the old man.
" I'll be your eyes. "
The old man smiled. He couldn't see the book being offered, but he sensed it, and grabbed it from the boy. " Good, " he said. " I need you. "
" Where shall we go? " the boy asked.
A dog howled in the distance. Night was coming soon. They had to move fast. Those not inside after dark became food for the Fowleri. The Others.
The Holy man gestured for them to rise. Most did. Some wept and held their hands out to him. A few walked away.
" Come with me, " he said. " I have a special place. "
* * *
China, Nov 17th 2011
President Arnold Schwarzenegger stood in line.
He could not believe it had come to this. All the promises of partnership. All lies. All day long this had been going on. His aides, his staff, Michelle and Joe Biden, now all dead.
He looked down at the sign hanging from his neck. There was only a number. The bindings on his wrist were tight.
Finally, it was his turn.
Hands grabbed his arms and he was forced to walk. He didn't talk; he knew there was no point. All the others before had tried.
He was forced to his knees.
The sun splayed down through the trees and birds sang. It seemed the sky had never been so blue. He couldn't afford regret and had no time for anything else either. He tried to imagine his kids faces, laughing during a happier time.
Then the sound stopped for him as a rifle bullet blew out the back of his skull. Another shattered his spine. He slumped over and was kicked into the pit, with the rest of his staff and family.
To be continued...
The rest of the story so far
" And the Lord sayeth unto them, go to the Land of Shadows, and cast your burden into the fire. Do not fear those that live under the ground, or those that fly in the air on their evil steeds of death and iron. The two servants of God left their home and families and ventured forth. There were others that left with them, but they were led astray, or cast aside. They did meet up with one, a guide that led them into The Dark Lords lair. Like Cain and Abel, the two servants of God fought. But they carried on and eventually cast their burden and their sins into a lake of fire.
The fields outside the gates were now mostly barren, and a shanty town of plywood shacks had sprung up. A polluted stream ran by behind the rows. The workers were now free to go, but the soldiers knew they wouldn't go far. Without the soldiers guns, the workers would become food, and without the workers the soldiers would have no one to work the land to get what withered vegetables to grow they could. Dogs lounged in shadows in the alleys, and there was a plague of stray cats. That would be fixed soon, if the next shipment of food got cancelled again. There was even a set of batwing doors that led to a larger building were people gathered to gamble, smoke their pipe and huff paint. If it wasn't for the tanks parked next to the buildings ( long ago out of gas ) it almost looked like a old west town.
" The Apostles fought with Our Lord in The Battle of Five Armies, and the enemy was defeated. The two servants had gained valuable time in which to finish their quest, which they did. The Angel Elrond led his armies into battle on the side of Men, and many died therein. "
The Holy man didn't see the soldiers that pulled up next to his group, even as they unloaded from the truck but he heard them. He knew his time was short. Maybe this time, he figured, they would do more than put his eyes out. He was not afraid. He knew god waited for him in The Grey Havens. He had faith.
" Let us pray. "
Some among the crowd walked away when the soldiers pulled up. The others were regulars, and stayed to listen, not just for the food. He felt the sin of pride; he had disciples.
" Our Lord Gandolf, who sent us his two servants Frodo and Sam to carry our burdens, please forgive us for our sins. We bear the Spiritual Ring, oh Lord, as your servants did, so long ago. Protect us from the Orcs and giant spiders, oh Lord. Send our King Aragorn to protect us in our hour of need."
A soldier marched up and stopped before the Holy man. The others now had their rifles raised and pointed at the group of listeners. The soldier drew a sword and yelled, " 停止現在，您沒有被批准講話! 投下那本書，否则我將切掉您的手! "
The Holy man paused, unsure of what the soldier was saying. He shrugged.
" Send us the Ents, oh Lord, to smash the enemies castles. Give us..."
The sword flashed in the sun and the hand holding the book fell to the ground, still clutching it. The soldier pointed his sword at the man and shouted, " 下次它將是子彈到頭。 沒有警告! " They paused to beat some of the onlookers with their rifle butts before getting back into their truck. The Holy man clutched his bleeding wrist. A follower wrapped twine about it and tightened it up to stop the bleeding. What was left of the bread was now a deep, dark red because of all the blood.
" I am not afraid! They can take my eyes, but Lord Gandolf helps me see. They can take my hands, but he will help me! Who shall be my eyes? "
He paused and his head moved, as if he was looking around the crowd. Their faces turned away. The scarred red holes where his eyes used to be were unnerving.
" Who shall be my hands? "
For a long moment there was silence. Then a boy pushed his way through the crowd, or what was left of it. He was young, but no child. Maybe nine years old. He was skinny and had sores on his flesh and greasy matted hair, like everybody else. He pried the book out of the severed hands fingers and held it up to the old man.
" I'll be your eyes. "
The old man smiled. He couldn't see the book being offered, but he sensed it, and grabbed it from the boy. " Good, " he said. " I need you. "
" Where shall we go? " the boy asked.
A dog howled in the distance. Night was coming soon. They had to move fast. Those not inside after dark became food for the Fowleri. The Others.
The Holy man gestured for them to rise. Most did. Some wept and held their hands out to him. A few walked away.
" Come with me, " he said. " I have a special place. "
* * *
China, Nov 17th 2011
President Arnold Schwarzenegger stood in line.
He could not believe it had come to this. All the promises of partnership. All lies. All day long this had been going on. His aides, his staff, Michelle and Joe Biden, now all dead.
He looked down at the sign hanging from his neck. There was only a number. The bindings on his wrist were tight.
Finally, it was his turn.
Hands grabbed his arms and he was forced to walk. He didn't talk; he knew there was no point. All the others before had tried.
He was forced to his knees.
The sun splayed down through the trees and birds sang. It seemed the sky had never been so blue. He couldn't afford regret and had no time for anything else either. He tried to imagine his kids faces, laughing during a happier time.
Then the sound stopped for him as a rifle bullet blew out the back of his skull. Another shattered his spine. He slumped over and was kicked into the pit, with the rest of his staff and family.
To be continued...
The rest of the story so far