I’m a Doorman at an Assassin’s Hotel

Gradually, consciousness returned. My eyelids felt as heavy as if weighed down by stones. A low humming sound filled the air, like wind weaving through trees or distant whispers. I forced my eyes open, and blurry shades of green greeted me.

"Awake?" A familiar, cold voice reached my ears. Blinking, I saw Elaysa standing beside me, casually twirling her dagger. Her sharp gaze swept across our surroundings, ever vigilant.

"Where… are we?" My voice was hoarse as I tried to sit up, but a surge of pain shot through my body, making me wince.

"Don't move," Aragorn's voice came from the other side. He was tending to Frodo, who lay pale and weak. Sam sat nearby, his red, swollen eyes betraying the fear and exhaustion he had endured. "We were rescued, but we're not out of danger yet."

"Rescued?" My groggy mind struggled to piece together what had happened. Orcs, Uruk-hai… and those roots—yes, the roots!

"Was it… trees that saved us?" I asked hesitantly, my voice laced with confusion.

"Not just trees," Aragorn replied, standing and gazing into the forest. "Ents."

"Ents?" Sam's voice was a mix of fear and curiosity. "The walking, talking trees from stories?"

"To be precise, it was Treebeard," Elaysa said, sheathing her dagger. Her tone was detached, but her sharp eyes betrayed her unease. "An ancient and powerful guardian of this forest. However, we don't yet know where he stands."

A deep, resonant voice interrupted her, as if the earth itself was speaking:

"Who… are you… and why… do you trespass… upon the Ents' land?"

From the depths of the forest, a towering figure emerged. A massive, ancient tree stepped forward, its bark etched with the lines of age. Light flickered faintly among its leaves, and its deep-set "eyes" gazed at us with unyielding authority.

"Treebeard!" Aragorn stood tall, placing a hand on his chest in a gesture of respect. "We come from Rohan and entered your forest while pursuing Sauron's minions. We meant no offense."

Treebeard stood silent, his branches swaying slightly in the breeze. His voice rumbled like the forest itself:

"Sauron… his shadow spreads again… but why… should I trust you?"

Aragorn began to reply, but Elaysa cut in sharply. "Because we were just attacked by Uruk-hai, and you saved us. We have no ties to Sauron."

Treebeard regarded her with a long, deep look before speaking.

"It is true… the stench of the Uruk-hai… taints my forest… They do not belong here…"

Sam swallowed nervously and stepped forward, his voice trembling with desperation. "Mr. Treebeard, sir, our friend is badly hurt. Could you… help him?" His gaze fell on Frodo, pale and still. His plea was heartfelt.

Treebeard's great eyes shifted to Frodo. He seemed to study him carefully, his deep voice resonating again:

"He carries… a dangerous aura… Yet… his heart is pure…"

Treebeard extended a massive branch and gently touched Frodo's forehead. A soft, green light flowed from his fingertip into Frodo's body. Frodo's face relaxed slightly, and his breathing grew steadier.

"This will not last long… His wounds… need elven magic…" Treebeard withdrew his branch, his voice calm yet firm.

Aragorn nodded solemnly. "We'll make for Rivendell as swiftly as possible. Thank you, Treebeard."

Treebeard turned, gazing into the distant forest. His voice grew deeper, laden with purpose:

"Sauron's shadow… reaches even here… I will defend this forest… But you… must hurry…"

"Of course!" I nodded hastily, a mix of gratitude and apprehension filling my chest. This ancient guardian had saved us and vowed to resist Sauron, but how long could he hold out?

"Let's move," Elaysa said coldly. She had already mounted her horse, her eyes scanning the forest. "This isn't a place to linger."

Aragorn helped Sam lift Frodo onto a horse, securing him as gently as possible. Before we left, he turned back toward Treebeard. "May your strength continue to protect this forest."

Treebeard said nothing, his massive form blending back into the trees as though he had never been there. With Frodo and our shared burden of darkening fate, we pressed onward toward Rivendell.

Night fell as we pushed forward in the biting wind. Frodo lay weakly against Aragorn, his breathing shallow but steadier than before. Sam clung to the saddle behind me, his gaze fixed on Frodo, his worry evident in every glance.

"Were those… really trees back there?" Sam finally broke the silence, his voice still tinged with disbelief. "Ents… I never thought they were real."

"Ents," Aragorn corrected softly, his eyes fixed ahead. "They are among the oldest guardians of this world. Perhaps the greatest obstacle to Sauron's expansion. But the Ents do not easily involve themselves in mortal affairs. That they aided us is a rare stroke of luck."

"Luck?" I couldn't help but interject, half-joking but mostly exhausted. "If that's luck, can we hope for more? Like maybe avoiding any more Uruk-hai or Ringwraiths?"

Elaysa shot me a withering look, her lips curving in a faint, mocking smile. "Don't get your hopes up, Lorne. Sauron's reach covers every corner. The closer we get to Rivendell, the greater the danger."

"Great," I muttered, tightening my grip on the reins. Sam sighed behind me, sharing my exasperation.

The road ahead grew darker and harder to discern. Shadows of trees danced ominously in the moonlight, and the occasional wolf howl sent shivers down my spine.

"How much farther to Rivendell?" I asked in a low voice.

"Two days' journey," Aragorn replied, his tone measured. "But we must avoid main roads and potential ambushes."

"Two days?" My eyes widened. "You're kidding. We'll never make it at this rate!"

"Quiet," Elaysa snapped, her voice icy as the night around us. "Focus on the path ahead, not complaints."

I sighed heavily and chose to keep my thoughts to myself. There was little else I could do in the face of our dire circumstances.

That night, we found a sparse clearing in the forest to make camp. Aragorn inspected the area thoroughly before signaling it was safe enough to rest.

Frodo remained unconscious, though his complexion had improved slightly—Treebeard's intervention, no doubt. Still, his condition was precarious.

Sam sat by Frodo's side, his tired eyes never leaving him. Even as I handed him some bread, he only nibbled at it, his focus unwavering.

"He'll be all right," I said, trying to sound confident. Truthfully, I was as anxious as Sam.

"Thank you, Lorne," Sam muttered, his voice low and sincere. "If not for you, we wouldn't have made it this far."

"Don't thank me," I replied, scratching the back of my head awkwardly. "It was more… luck, really."

"Luck?" Elaysa scoffed from nearby, her sharp eyes locking onto me. "If all you had was luck, you'd be dead by now."

"Uh, thanks for the encouragement?" I tried to lighten the mood, but she wasn't amused.

"Stay alert," she warned, her voice as cold as ever. "The enemy won't give us a moment's rest."

I nodded, clutching my sword tightly. Deep down, I hoped for a quiet night, but the tension in the air was suffocating.

The shadows seemed to grow darker as the hours dragged on. I leaned against a tree, trying to rest, but every sound kept me on edge. Just as my eyes began to close, a faint rustling snapped me awake.

"What's that?" I whispered, hand instinctively reaching for my sword.

Aragorn was on his feet in an instant, scanning the surroundings with the precision of a seasoned hunter. "Someone's approaching."

Elaysa's dagger glinted faintly in the moonlight as she assumed a defensive stance. "Stay ready. This might not be orcs."

The footsteps grew louder, accompanied by hushed whispers that sent chills down my spine.

"Who's there?" Aragorn demanded, his sword raised.

The shadows parted, revealing a frail figure stepping cautiously into the clearing. His stooped posture and ragged appearance immediately set me on edge.

"I'm Radagast," the man said, raising a hand in peace. "A messenger… and a friend."

"Radagast?" Aragorn frowned slightly, as though the name rang a distant bell.

"Yes," Radagast nodded, his gaze sweeping over us. "I know you're on your way to Rivendell, and I know how important your mission is. I've come to help."

"Help?" Elaysa asked coldly, her tone full of doubt at his sudden appearance. "And why should we trust you?"

"Because I bring news from Gandalf," Radagast replied evenly, producing a rolled parchment from beneath his cloak and handing it to Aragorn.

Aragorn unrolled the parchment, his brow furrowing deeper as he read. Once he finished, he looked up at Radagast. "Gandalf sent you to assist us?"

"Yes," Radagast nodded again. "He fears Sauron's forces will reach you before you make it to Rivendell, so he asked me to find you and provide aid."

"Can we trust him?" Sam whispered to me, his voice tinged with worry.

I shrugged, just as unsure but with no other options at hand. "We don't have much choice," I muttered.

"How far do we still have to go?" Radagast asked, his sharp eyes falling on Frodo, who remained unconscious.

"Two days' journey," Aragorn said gravely, "and we must avoid the main roads."

"Then we need to move faster," Radagast's expression hardened. "Sauron's agents are already in motion. We don't have much time."

Aragorn nodded, rolling the parchment back up and tucking it into a pouch on his belt. He turned to Radagast, his gaze steady but wary. "If Gandalf sent you, we'll trust you for now. But if you have any ulterior motives…"

"Ulterior motives?" Radagast let out a wry chuckle, shaking his head. "Young man, my only motive is to help you get Frodo to Rivendell. If we fail, all of Middle-earth will fall."

Elaysa's piercing gaze stayed fixed on Radagast. She clearly didn't relax, but after a tense moment, she stepped forward and said, "Fine. If you're Gandalf's messenger, then make sure you don't slow us down."

"Slow you down?" Radagast spread his hands in mock indignation. "I'll have you know I'm here to speed things up. My 'friends' are far more helpful than I am."

He whistled, the sound echoing through the forest. Moments later, the sound of beating wings filled the air. We looked up to see three massive eagles descending gracefully, landing on the nearby clearing with an effortless elegance.

"The Windlords!" Aragorn's eyes widened in astonishment. "You can summon them?"

"Old friends, you could say," Radagast said modestly, stroking the feathers of one eagle. A note of pride laced his voice. "They'll help you cover the distance faster."

I stared at the towering birds, my jaw dropping. "You're saying… these are your friends? And they can fly us to Rivendell?"

Radagast nodded, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Of course. But you'd best not treat them as mere transportation."

"That's incredible!" Sam's face lit up for a moment before worry clouded it again. "But… can Frodo handle it?"

"He'll be fine," Aragorn reassured him softly before turning to Radagast. "We need to leave immediately."

"Very well, everyone," Radagast said with a clap of his hands. "Choose a 'steed' you trust, and don't try their patience."

I eyed the giant eagles nervously. They were majestic, sure, but riding one sounded like a fast track to falling to my death. Still, there was no alternative. Following Aragorn's lead, I gingerly climbed onto one of the eagles, clutching its feathers tightly.

As the eagle's powerful wings beat the air and lifted us into the sky, my heart shot into my throat. The wind roared in my ears, and the ground below shrank rapidly, the forest and mountains merging into a blurry patchwork of shadows.

"Hold steady, Lorne!" Elaysa's voice called out, steady and unaffected by the height.

"Steady? You've got to be kidding me!" I yelled back, gripping the eagle's feathers as though my life depended on it—because it did. Internally, I cursed the system for not giving me some kind of "high-altitude flying" skill.

The Windlords' flight was remarkably smooth, but the air grew colder as we climbed higher. Frodo's face looked even paler under the moonlight. Sam clung to him protectively, his expression tense with worry.

"Just hold on a little longer, Frodo," Aragorn murmured, his voice tinged with urgency.

Ahead, the outline of mountains grew sharper in the distance. Rivendell—the beacon of hope—was within sight.