“Siege”
A Nagol Storybook,
Part Eight of Some.
By The Author:
Discarding the fragments of the now useless spear, Nagol stumbled backwards away from the Minotaur that towered over him mace upraised. Sprawled out on the ground helplessly, Nagol waited for the killing blow, but the blow never came. Suddenly he felt a hurricane force wind behind him; Nagol twisted his head around and was faced with the sight of a helicopter rushing towards him. The helicopter shot over his head so close he could have touched it and proceeded to nail Minos, the Minotaur, head on. The goblins watching from a short ways away visibly shuddered at the sight of their leader being defiled in this way. The helicopter shot pass him once again, this time at a slower speed, and this time Nagol had the presence of mind to leap into the door that hung open on the side of the helicopter. Nagol felt the shock of acceleration rush through his body as he was thrown bodily against the back of the helicopter’s interior. Nagol felt blood on his face as he felt it carefully with his hand and then passed out.
* * * * *
The next thing Nagol knew, he was back in his bedroom in Sector 32. That was odd, he thought to himself, shouldn’t he be in a hospital or something; he remembered that he had been injured somehow. No matter how much he thought about it, the whole situation made very little sense to Nagol. He knew he was defiantly injured because he had a cast on one arm, so why wasn’t he in a hospital. Precisely fifteen seconds after he had awakened, Nagol was greeted by Farsam. Farsam knew a great deal more about the situation then Nagol at the moment and not having been unconscious had known it for a great deal longer. For example, one thing Farsam knew was that he had nearly killed Nagol.
“Gee, I’m sorry,” Farsam stated empathetically, “I had no idea… I almost killed you…”
“You almost killed me?” Nagol asked in surprise, “was there a reason for this, or you just sort of did it…”
“Oh my gosh?” Farsam exclaimed, “You don’t remember, do you? Do you even know my name? Where are you, do you even know that?”
“Of course I know your name,” Nagol said in a tone that was clearly joking, “You’re Joe.”
“You really don’t remember anything!” Farsam exclaimed, not catching on, “You’re Nagol and I’m…”
“Farsam,” Nagol interjected not wanting to distress Farsam any further, “Say, shouldn’t I be in a hospital bed or something? I mean I have a broken arm, and there’s a patch or something on my forehead.”
“Logan thinks you’ll get better faster in the comfort of my own home,” Farsam answered, “Personally I think he’s right. Besides, the hospital isn’t finished yet.”
“This isn’t my home,” Nagol argued, “Sector 23 is.”
“You’re forgetting again,” Farsam corrected him, “This is your home. Remember, you moved here a couple of weeks ago…”
“I guess you’re right,” Nagol decided and then added thoughtfully, “This is my home now; this is my home.”
“Well, I have work to do, and I suppose you do too, first get some rest, though,” Farsam stated and without another word walked out of the room leaving Nagol alone.
Nagol lay in bed for a few minutes neither willing to get up nor able to sleep before he reluctantly crawled out of bed. It wasn’t an enormous transition, Logan at least knew enough to keep the room at a reasonable temperature, and getting out of bed was only mildly uncomfortable for Nagol. Shivers ran down his back as he adjusted to the air, nonetheless, and Nagol almost wished he had stayed in bed. Throwing on some cloths, Nagol hurried downstairs and rushed into the bathroom. Luckily it wasn’t occupied.
After breakfast, some concoction that was supposed to be bacon and eggs, Nagol summoned Farsam using his watch. The watch apparently had both audio and video capacity and Farsam appeared on the small screen that normally displayed the time.
“¿Qué quieres?” Farsam appeared to ask in a voice that was not his own.
“You speak Spanish?” Nagol asked, he had always assumed that Farsam spoke only English, as well as a little French, perhaps.
“Um, actually these dealies have translators built right in,” Farsam admitted, “Isn’t that nifty?”
“Sure,” Nagol replied not sounding impressed, “Say, what’s been happening, I guess I only missed a day, right?”
“I think so,” Farsam replied, “To be perfectly honest I don’t think anything’s happened.”
“Nothing at all?” Nagol asked somewhat surprised.
“The goblins haven’t moved, the orcs are in hiding, and they’re not on the best of terms with each other anyways,” Farsam replied, “Say, did I tell you about what I pulled off?”
“No,” Nagol answered honestly, “I don’t think you did.”
“Farsam then proceeded to treat Nagol to his version of his adventures. This wasn’t the first time he had given it, and he had it honed down to a point. Logan had already heard it, as had several dozen rabbits, deer, elephants, lions, and a bear. Farsam would have already taken to stretching it quite a bit, except that not only could Jops contradict him if he did so, but the entire adventure was also stored on Logan’s computer. This was fortunate because Nagol was able to reconstruct data that Farsam had all but ignored such as the goblin’s fighting formations and the tactics that the orcs used as well. Oddly, Logan had never seen orcs alive before as he usually took to machine-gunning them down at a quarter mile distant. He was already having quite a bit of fun experimenting on Zophar. Needless to say, Zophar was avoiding Logan as much as possible. For that matter he was avoiding almost everyone as much as possible given that nobody in Sector 32 took kindly to orcs, not even traitorous ones.
What this all amounted to was the fact that most of what Farsam told Nagol was, indeed, fact and not serious hyperbole. This was probably a good thing given that Nagol was heading the war effort and deserved all the accurate information he could get. Nagol was quite the multi-talented personality, and you may have guessed, and in the course of Farsam’s speech he was able to listen and also stumble out of the door of his house. The reason he did this, as if it wasn’t obvious, was to check the big billboard that showed the positions of the goblins and orcs. Sure enough, the three legions that had been heading towards Orcwoods appeared to have disappeared. Nagol wanted to view the record over a period of time, rewind it and play it again, but, alas, he wasn’t that multi-talented. This bothered Nagol because it left him with no way to confirm Farsam’s story. Now why would he second-guess Farsam? I thought he was trustworthy…
Nagol spent a moment chastising himself for not having paid enough attention to Logan when he had given him the watch and then asked Farsam to do it for him. At first Nagol couldn’t figure out why Farsam didn’t immediately put the display on his watch and he was about to ask just as much. He was about to when he realized that Farsam had instead put the display up on the billboard that had displayed the current location of the goblins. ‘What an ego,’ Nagol thought to himself and then watched as the goblin legions disappeared into Orcwoods. When the goblin legions had disappeared completely from the satellite image, Farsam apparently had the ingenuity to replace it with video from the virtual reality chamber. There were not a few people who immediately panicked assuming that the video clips of goblins and orcs fighting amounted to a genuine attack on Sector 32.
Nagol stared at the screen in somewhat amazement as he watched orcs swarm out of the forest into the clearing where the battle had taken place like so many ants and utterly consumed the disorganized, drunken goblin armies. Then the scene shifted suddenly until it was outside of the forest where a fleet of half a dozen or so planes was ferrying Monobob’s scouts back to Sector 32. Suddenly, Nagol remembered it all, and there were the goblins with Minos, and then, then at last, Monobob climbed onto the plane. That last plane disappeared leaving Nagol to contend with the goblins. Their leader, Minos, stepped forward mace in hand and walked slowly and deliberately towards Nagol. Nagol watched himself futilely parry the Minotaur’s fierce blows, and then, like magic, a helicopter appeared as if out of nowhere. The helicopter flew into the stunned Minos and then swept him, Nagol, away into the air. The scene went black and then returned to the normal display. The goblins had not moved and the only orc to be seen was Zophar, inside Sector 32. All was still well with the world.
Nagol was started suddenly by a tap on his shoulder, it was Farsam. Overwhelmed, Nagol hugged him and Farsam returned the embrace. After that joyful reunion, Nagol chatted with Farsam a while and then asked for the whereabouts of Logan. Actually, Farsam had no better idea then Nagol as to where Logan was, but at least he knew how to find him. After toying with his watch for a moment, he announced that Logan was in his laboratory.
Nagol set out towards Logan’s laboratory the entrance of which, as you may remember, was set in the recess behind the only gate to get in our out of Sector 32. As he searched for the hairline crack that marked the door, and then tried to remember the code required to open it, Nagol noticed something; the gate was closed.
“Why is the gate closed?” Nagol demanded of Farsam who was still nearby.
“You’re the one who ordered it closed,” Farsam replied defensively, “We’re at war, remember?”
“ I want it open,” Nagol ordered, “Now!”
“Why…” Farsam began to protest.
“Open the gate!” Nagol insisted.
Farsam fiddled with his watch for a moment attempting to follow Nagol’s orders. As the seconds passed, Nagol grew impatient as Farsam carefully explained that a password was necessary.
“Do you know the password?” Farsam asked Nagol, “Otherwise I’ll have to call Logan for it…”
“No, I just happen to know every silly password Logan invents,” Nagol replied in a quite insulting tone of voice, “What’s the point with all these passwords anyways? Shouldn’t it just open when you say ‘open sesame’ or something? I’m really starting to get bothered by all this ‘high-tech’ stuff Logan keeps making…”
“I think there’s a reason anyone can’t just open the gate…” Farsam explained only to be cut off by the sight of the gate flying open.
“I guess that works,” Nagol declared, “Now why can’t everything be that simple? Set some guards on post here and tell me if anything happens; I’m going to see Logan…”
With that, Nagol entered the door to Logan’s laboratory, which he had finally found and disappeared. Farsam was left standing at the gate bewildered. He paced the breadth of the gate back and forth expecting that at any moment goblins would come pouring in the open gate. Nothing happened.
When a random squirrel walked past and noticed the gate was open, Farsam immediately recruited him to go and find some volunteers to guard the gate. He had considered simply closing the gate but decided against it, knowing how Nagol felt about being disobeyed. It was possible Nagol had some reason for wanting the gate open. It was possible that he was insane, too. Farsam was eventually relieved from guarding the gate by a haphazard bunch of lions, rabbits, and one, later two, elephants. The lions and the rabbits it seems were having a friendly feud and anything the lions did the rabbits opted to do also. Farsam wandered off, heading in the general direction of where Monobob lived, although nowhere in particular.
As Farsam was trying to defend the gate of Sector 32, Nagol was navigating a twisted maze of passages built into the walls of Sector 32. He darted in and out of the passages he had come to know so well over the last few months, searching for Logan. Well, perhaps he didn’t know them that well… The rooms that Nagol passed by or through were cluttered with experiments, ideas in progress. Here, some chemical extraction process designed to create a more potent explosive, there a computer program designed to analyze and predict the movements of the goblins and orcs, somewhere else, a robot whose sole purpose was finding and saving wounded soldiers. Occasionally, an experiment would catch Nagol’s eye and he would stop to admire it. Often, an experiment would end up completely confusing Nagol and he would wander off once more. One example of such an experiment was nothing more then a flashing light that appeared green if Nagol looked at it with one eye, but red if he looked at it with the other. After a few moments of pondering, Nagol tried looking at the light with no eyes only to discover it looked black. Nagol moved on, trying to figure out how to use the map function built into his watch; every time he tried to use it, it kept focusing on his house, the gate, or somewhere else he wasn’t interested in. Fortunately for Nagol, who might have become lost in Logan’s spacious laboratory for some time, a squirrel passed by who was able to point him in the right direction.
Amazingly, a point in the right direction was all Nagol needed and within minutes he had found Logan. Logan was deeply involved in something and it took him several minutes to notice Nagol’s presence in the room, but eventually he did.
“What do you want?” Logan asked, looking up from the futuristic device he had been manipulating.
“Just sort of wondering what’s been happening,” Nagol confessed, “You know, while I was… out.”
“Nothing significant,” Logan replied almost like clockwork, “The goblins haven’t moved and the orcs haven’t shown their faces either.”
“That’s exactly what Farsam told me,” Nagol noted as Logan did something or another with his watch.
“Nagol,” Logan said after a short pause, “do you have any idea as to why the gate would be open? I didn’t even think anyone knew the password I put on it…”
“Open sesame?” Nagol asked, “It worked for me…”
“Yes, I think that the password is indeed ‘open sesame,’” Logan replied, “Wait a moment, you opened the gate?”
“Yeah…” Nagol answered and was about to explain when Logan interrupted.
“Permit me to inquire as to the reasons behind this gesture,” Logan requested.
“I was about to do that,” Nagol said sounding somewhat annoyed, “So, anyways, we’re not at war with the goblins, at least not until they attack us…”
“Are you attempting to incite such an attack?” Logan asked, a hint of confusion on his voice, “By leaving the front door wide open, so to speak, you indeed appear to be inviting the goblins to attack.”
“Not at all,” Nagol replied, “I’m trying to convey the message that we are at peace and do not feel as if war with the goblins is necessary,” Nagol insisted.
“Just so you understand this beforehand,” Logan began scientifically, “I intend to close the gates to this city if, under any circumstances, a goblin army approaches the city.”
“What about goblin ambassadors?” Nagol asked and left the room.
Half an hour later, Nagol stumbled out into the outside half dazed finally having escaped from Logan’s labyrinthine laboratory. Logan, however, simply returned to his experiment not at all concerned with Nagol’s silly political gestures. He genuinely doubted, however, that anything so polite as a group of goblin ambassadors would be lured in by the open gate. At the moment, Logan was working on two projects, weapons and Zophar; currently the later was bearing most heavily on his mind. The fantastic device Nagol had seen him toying with was actually a very advanced microscope and inside was a tiny chunk of Zophar’s flesh. Zophar, and presumably all orcs, appeared to have no internal organs. There was no heart, no lungs, and no brain. The only vulnerable part of the orcs appeared to be a sack of jelly. Logan had determined that this yolk, as he had started calling it, served as the orcs’ source of energy. Apparently, if this sac was ruptured, by a bullet perhaps, the orc would be essentially starved to death in a matter of minutes if not seconds. Logan still had no idea where the orcs’ senses of sight or hearing were contained, although he had discovered that speech was produced by amplifying sounds inside the orcs’ yolks and projecting them out of the top part of it. Zophar, of course, resented everything Logan was doing to him, but who wouldn’t complain about being poked and prodded with needles? And what did Logan have to show for his work? Well, actually, he was pretty sure he had developed a chemical weapon that blocked the conversion of the jelly inside the orcs’ yolks into energy. What was better, this chemical also neutralized the sugar in normal food and thus made any food diet food: which of course meant it tasted bad. Other then that, the chemical, while slightly nauseating, was completely harmless, except to orcs. Necessarily, Zophar had become more wary of Logan when he had discovered that Logan was designing weapons specifically to kill orcs.
* * * * *
Minos, lord of the goblins, was both deeply troubled and deeply confused. Deeply troubled still because he had been defeated; deeply confused because his enemies appeared to be looking for defeat. As the state of affairs lay, all of his opponents were situated safely behind thick stone walls where he couldn’t possibly hope to attack them. Now, however, he had receiving news that the gates to Sector 32, he thought that was what Tando had called it, had been flung wide open. It was an open invitation for him to attack; Minos vowed not to fall into what was obviously a trap. If his opponents wanted him to rush in on an unprotected city, then that was the last thing Minos would do. Minos had been in situations like this before; one doesn’t become the great general of an undefeated goblin army without being in battle. Minos knew one thing about his enemies for certain, they were smarter then they made out to be. Their diversion, for example, was a brilliant scheme, one that almost had succeeded in misleading him. Not that he had succeeded either. That was what really bothered Minos about this whole affair, last time they had won. Their strange flying machines had all but left before he could reach them, the one that remained had gotten away despite his attempts to stop it, and a single unarmed boy of perhaps twelve or thirteen had been able to hold his own against Minos, master with a mace. Well perhaps not the last part, it had really been another of the flying machines, a different kind, that had saved the boy. Nonetheless, it was apparent that the army Minos was dealing with possessed at least some merits. That was precisely why Minos refused to walk into an open door, his adversaries couldn’t have been so foolish as to leave one so obvious. In the end, Minos decided to do nothing. Well, actually, he ordered his scouts to report back immediately if anything happened and then retired for the day.
* * * * *
Nate trudged down what would have been to anybody else mile after mile of meaningless passageways. For some days now, he had been trying to reach Rome. He had set out three days ago, immediately after the meeting in Sector 32, but there had been delays, as there always are. In this particular case, he had been waylaid by a group of obscure relatives who insisted upon his relating every detail of his recent exploits. Eventually, he was able to slip away, but only after promising to ‘come back straightaway after I see Lord Moly.’ Nate wondered if he would have to keep that promise…
* * * * *
Afternoon the next day back in Sector 32, Nagol was addressing a gathering crowd of rabbits, deer, lions, elephants, and one orc. The subject of this particular speech was the same as that of the last five speeches he had given, the war. This time, he decided to begin with a happy little introduction about how great everything was going in Sector 32, and about what great people everyone was. Then, he turned onto a darker subject, the enemy. At the simple mention of goblins and orcs, everyone began to boo, and when Nagol gave his most detailed character profile of Minos yet, he had actually borrowed it from Farsam, the crowd looked as if they would have willingly gone out and torn his flesh to pieces. After a pause, Nagol somehow had to turn the crowd in a total about face and remind them that he was working towards peace.
“…it is with this in mind that I have ordered the gates open,” Nagol declared, “For our purpose is not to send a message of hatred, Minos has done that himself, but our purpose is to send a message of peace, and of friendship, and of open arms…”
The entire crowd started cheering. Nagol paused for a breath; the cheering roared on. Briefly, Nagol scanned the crowd. They were an awkward bunch, some haphazard collection of every variety of beast under the sun. Something, however, had turned this miscellaneous bunch into more then that; something had magically transformed them into an army, a people, and a family. Nagol wondered how that was possible, what force could unite such a varied assortment of beings. The obvious answer was a common enemy, but that didn’t really explain it. No, that wasn’t the answer. It was more then that, it was both a common enemy and a common alliance, one of people who all had fathers, mothers, brothers, and, yes, even sisters. It was an alliance of people who all breathed the same air, and who all loved the same loves. It was from any perspective an impossible arrangement, but somehow it worked.
Slowly, Nagol realized the pause was growing dramatic; the crowd sat on an edge.
Nagol resumed his speech, “My people, it is for this purpose, and for no other, that we are here today, to love, and to share, and to hold each other in our arms. Even, perhaps, to hold out open arms for the goblins and the orcs, if that is possible. If it is not, I fear what fate hell has for a people so unable, so thoroughly lost, so fallen that they lack the ability for peace…”
Nagol finished up his speech with a few points on how the diplomacy was to proceed, and then retired to his room. Once there he took a bath, had a nice lunch, and flicked on the TV.
After finding out that there was nothing on, besides some reality TV show where a bunch of people were stuck on an island, Nagol turned the TV off. He actually had to get up and press the on/off button, because he had lost his remote. He was pretty sure that somehow he could use his watch as a remote, Farsam had told him that last time he lost it, but he had no idea how. He also knew that somehow the TV could be turned on and off by voice command, but he couldn’t remember what the command to turn the TV off was. It was for these reasons and some others that never actually felt like changing the channel. In fact, the TV had been on the same channel for the last week, forcing Nagol to watch reality TV or nothing at all.
After Nagol turned away, just after turning off the TV, the TV suddenly turned on.
“Sir, a band of goblins is approaching,” a bedraggled looking squirrel announced.
“Didn’t I just turn that off?” Nagol muttered to himself.
“Sir!” the squirrel repeated from the TV, “a band of goblins is approaching!”
Nagol returned to his chair to watch whatever the TV had decided to turn on; at least it wasn’t Survivor.
“Sir, a band of goblins is approaching,” the squirrel repeated a third time.
“Get to the point,” Nagol demanded aloud, wondering who had written the script for this lousy TV show.
“Goblins, sir. Isn’t that sort of the point?” the squirrel asked confused.
“Oh!” Nagol exclaimed in surprise, “You’re talking to me!”
Nagol realized that when he had meant to turn off the TV, he had hit the on/off button. Of course, this button also doubled as a receive call button. Thus, when the squirrel had called him, he had accepted the call and that was why the squirrel was not talking to him.
“Who else would I be talking to?” the squirrel demanded in a less then understanding tone of voice.
“Oh, I thought you were on TV,” Nagol attempted and failed to explain, getting to his feet, “Oh dear, goblins. I’ll be there straightaway…”
Nagol rushed out of his house as the squirrel muttered something to himself about being on the TV. Once outside in the grass of the meadow, Nagol realized that he had forgotten to put on a pair of shoes. There was nothing to do but to go back for them. By the time he got back in his house, Nagol had remembered half a dozen other things he had forgotten ranging from his pencil to his sword. The pencil was in case he and Minos reached some sort of peace settlement so they could sign on it. The sword was for if, well… Nagol realized that maybe he oughtn’t bring the sword. Content that he had everything, Nagol stepped out of the door once more, without his shoes.
In a matter of minutes, Nagol was at the gate and wishing he had brought a coat as it was a bit chilly at the moment. On the way to the gate, he had glanced up at the billboard and confirmed that there was, indeed, a group of what appeared to be perhaps twenty or more goblins approaching Sector 32. From inside the gate, Nagol could see the approaching goblin division and was not surprised to discover that Minos, the minotaur, was at its head. The seconds ticked by painfully slow, and Nagol began to regret having forgotten his coat all the more fiercely. He was also starting to regret that he had left his sword behind. After all, all of the goblins in Minos’s company were armed with spears, and Minos himself carried a quite ornate one. When the group of goblins drew relatively near to Sector 32, Nagol called out to it.
“Greetings, dark lord Minos,” Nagol cried out waiving and then added, “leader of the goblins…”
Minos responded spear upraised, “You are unarmed,” he observed, “Does that mean surrender?”
Minos let the spear drop to his side and covered the last thirty feet or so between himself and the gate of Sector 32. The escort of goblins that had come with him stayed a little further back, but Minos strode boldly into the entranceway behind the open gate. Allowing the pause to grow until Minos was wholly within the entranceway and thus by rights standing in Sector 32, Nagol responded.
“If only surrender brings peace, no we will not surrender,” was Nagol’s reply when he gave it, “We would, however, have peace, though not for a price.”
“Peace?” Minos asked mockingly, “I am a man of war, a god of war, and you ask for peace…”
“To be a man of war, even a god of war, can only end badly,” Nagol replied, “It is by virtues one of those occupations that will bring you to death in the end.”
“I would choose no other occupation,” Minos replied.
“I ask you to choose another,” Nagol said, “For here we are, men of peace, although we have been forced to learn the art of war.”
“Then you would surrender?” Minos asked once again, “and deprive me of my glorious victory? …very well.”
“we will never surrender, but would rather have peace as equals,” Nagol replied, “We cannot allow for anything less.”
“So I shall have my war…” Minos deciphered.
“Though I hope it should never come to it,” Nagol replied, “Perhaps you shall have your war.”
Without another word, Minos made an about face and marched out of Sector 32. Falling in behind him, the troupe of goblins that had accompanied him to the city marched away as well. Reluctantly, Nagol ordered the gates closed behind the exiting Minotaur.
“It would appear peace has failed,” Nagol stated addressing the small crowd that had gathered to watch, “From now on, I imagine, Sector 32 is as good as at war…”
Exhausted by his second encounter with Minos, Nagol retired to his room. There, he flicked on the TV and was greeted by the sight of half a dozen people, one of whom was about to be voted off the island.
* * * * * *
Meanwhile, in Frodovilla, Bartook was giving a speech similar to the one that Nagol had just given. Farsam had contacted him only minutes ago, via satellite radio, and given him a brief summary of the meeting between Nagol and Minos. Bartook, unlike Nagol, had never been very optimistic about the idea of peace between Sector 32 and the goblins and was not surprised by the meeting’s outcome. Bartook had come to the conclusion that there were only two ways Minos would ever be convinced to make peace, well maybe three. The first was that he conquered the whole world and had nobody left to fight, and the second was that he was defeated and forced to act peaceful. That was what had happened during the Great war, wasn’t it? No, Minos had been captured… Oh, and the third way Bartook could think of was if Minos got a brain transplant.
The point being, Bartook was planning on there being a war. To do this, he stayed in constant contact with Logan who kept him up to date on the developments in and around Sector 32. Along with Farsam and a few others, Bartook and Logan had worked out a war plan. Nagol, Bartook had discovered early on, wasn’t much for strategy.
Minos’s war plan might have seemed obvious, but it wasn’t necessarily so. The advocate of the obvious would point out that Minos had over 6,000 goblins right next to Sector 32, what could be more plain then that? There were, however, a few potential flaws with that line of reasoning. For starters, Minos was at Sector 32 at Tando’s bidding and, at least momentarily, he wasn’t even on speaking terms with Tando. That was one strike against the statement that Minos would obviously attack Sector 32 first. The next thing to consider was that Minos had already attacked Sector 32, and failed. Would he really be so foolish as to try again? Then, of course, one had to remember that Minos was a master of tactics; surely he wouldn’t be so foolish as to make his plans obvious to see. The very fact that Minos had 6,000 plus troops in plain view of Sector 32 seemed to indicate he had something else up his sleeve. Possibly, Minos had half a dozen legions planning to attack somewhere completely different. It didn’t seem too impossible judging from who the enemy was. So where would Minos attack if he wasn’t targeting Sector 32 first, and how?
That was one thing to consider, but another was: what if Sector 32 was defeated? Nagol, of course, maintained that it wasn’t an issue because Sector 32 couldn’t be defeated, but Logan and others weren’t sure. Neither was Bartook. In the case that Sector 32 fell, the plan was that the refugees would flee north to either Snowtree National Park, or to Frodovilla. Minos was liable to do one of a few things. One thing that he could do would be to occupy what remained of Sector 32 and return with most of his force to the Underground Goblins Mts. to rebuild their strength. Of course, that course of action would imply Minos had some restraint, Bartook doubted he had any. Two other possibilities that seemed far more likely were that Minos either immediately marched on the capital of the KGUC underneath Rome, or that he attempted to hunt down the refugees fleeing from Sector 32. The second case would probably bring him right to the doorstep of Frodovilla, which was what Bartook was worried about. Actually, in any case Bartook was worried Frodovilla might be attacked. Thus far, at least, preparations to defend the city hadn’t gone very smoothly.
In fear that Frodovilla might be attacked, preparations were underway, and although hobbits rarely recognize any leaders, Bartook had been given the title of “War Preparations dictator.” This didn’t mean he had any real power; what it meant was that if anyone thought anything ought to be done, they went to Bartook about it. The first and foremost thing in Bartook’s mind had been to repair the wall around Frodovilla. If you don’t remember, the wall had a tremendous break in it where it had been ravaged by the dragon in part three. The wall hadn’t been repaired, even though the damage had been done to it over a year ago. Also, the wall was wooden and Bartook wanted to fireproof it. As things generally go, however, the first thing Bartook had actually done was not repairing the wall, but rather rebuilding more then half a dozen homes that the dragon had destroyed. Hobbits are a bit sedentary by nature, and until recently the hobbits displaced from their homes had simply moved into others that weren’t too crowded to hold one more hobbit. Soon after returning to Frodovilla from the war council at Sector 32, Bartook had held a house-raising event and gotten the houses built in half a day. They were decent houses, by hobbit standards, and designed in the traditional hobbit style, with round doors and windows. Someone had even gone so far as to make a round bed for one of the houses.
With the houses rebuilt, Bartook had at last been able to work on the ruined wall. Unfortunately, repairing the wall had taken more then a day to get done and by the second day most of the hobbits had wandered off with other things to do. By the third day, Bartook was working completely by himself. That was, of course, excepting the half-dozen or so youngsters who hung around and made a general nuisance of themselves. After a while, Bartook had managed to cook up a plan to get them to work, and off his nerves. As he working, Bartook took to making fabulously strange noises such as those a youngster might attribute to warriors fighting and villains being vanquished.
“What ‘cha doing?” one of the youngsters had finally asked, “and why are you making funny noises?”
“Oh,” said Bartook in that excited but sarcastic voice that will only fool a young hobbit, “I’m playing. This is my favorite game…”
“Game?” another youngster wondered aloud.
“Sure,” Bartook continued, “See those boards, they’re not really boards; they’re evil tree people…”
Bartook spent the rest of the day watching a group of youngsters nail the ‘evil tree people’ to the parts of the wall that needed repair. The youngsters spent the day trying to figure out why Bartook thought the game was so fun.
* * * * *
Nagol paced the floor of his bedroom anxiously, unable to sleep, but less able to do anything else. From every indication, it was clear that the goblins were planning a massive assault, and he was the one who had to stop it. If he couldn’t… there would be war.
First, the negotiations had gone entirely bad, and just for that it seemed as if Minos was liable to attack Sector 32 at any moment, but another piece of news Nagol had received from Logan had seemed an even more foreboding sign of a coming attack. Perhaps, there could still be peace if Minos was an obstinate warlord, but there would be no peace if he possessed the capacity to genuine damage to Sector 32. Nagol paced his room for hours, unsure of what to do, worries running in and out and through and generally all around his head.
In the middle of the night, Logan awoke with a start; he had a plan. Immediately, he rushed to his desk where his watch was lying, picked it up, and summoned Nagol, Farsam, Monobob, and a few others. Oddly, Nagol was still awake when Logan called, although none of the others were particularly overjoyed to be roused from their beds. By the time everyone was fully awake, Logan had crystallized the last details of his plan and talked them over with Nagol. Twenty minutes later, a party of two boys, two rabbits, a lion, an elf, a deer and a unicorn slipped silently out of Sector 32.
“Psst,” Farsam whispered to Nagol, “Can I turn a light on, it’s kinda dark out here.”
“No,” Nagol replied not even bothering to whisper, “We’re not supposed to be seen…”
“What exactly are we doing?” one of the rabbits demanded.
“We’ll worry about that when we get that far,” was Nagol’s cryptic reply.
The group marched on in a south eastern direction at every moment conscious of the fact that they could be ambushed by a party of goblins. No one in the group was armed save Nagol who carried his sword as he always did of late. ‘A pretty neat sword,’ Nagol thought to himself admiring it, ‘quite pretty neat.’
Suddenly the whole group came to a halt, that was except Nagol who was too busy admiring his sword to notice. Nagol tripped and fell, giving a startled cry. The goblin before him looked him full in the face and then turned away.
“Goblins are night-blind,” Logan whispered to the others, “If Nagol doesn’t startle him too much more, he may not have noticed us…”
Logan’s speech was cut short by the burst of a goblin’s horn echoing through the air.
“Good call,” Monobob whispered back to Logan.
“Run!” Nagol exclaimed, boldly assaulting the goblin and throwing him to the ground.
The members of the impromptu sabotage group, for that was what it was of course, followed Nagol’s command to the letter. Nagol, however, was surrounded by almost a dozen goblins and in seconds they had him in their grasp. Despite his struggles, Nagol could not escape, although the goblins did no more harm to him then to jab him with the blunt ends of their spears. Strangely, none of them thought to remove the sword that hung on his belt.