In the years that Mortar lived in Middle-earth, he hadn’t pictured seeing Minas Tirith. Now that the black cat was on the Pelennor Fields, with its rolling brown plain and the white city looking out to Mordor, he might as well expect the worst.
Everyone knew him as the black cat with the One Ring. His reputation proceeded him as he neared the white city. The snide looks on people’s faces, when he stepped past the huge wooden doors. Didn’t they know he’d change? Where was a mirror when he needed one?
Oh! There was a mirror. He took a good look at his reflection. His eyes were more yellowish than blood red. The blood red was returning to the whites in his eyes. He sighed in relief. Finally, some good news. The last thing he wanted to be, before the Steward of Gondor saw him, was a cat with bloodshot eyes and a ravenous appetite for the One Ring.
That Ring was in the past. Now, he could live his life to the fullest. Now, he was home. Right where he needed to be.
“Come on!” Serena, a deep grey Nebelung cat whose beauty sought no bounds, spoke to him. “The Steward awaits us.”
“I’m coming, my turtledove!” Mortar said, running up next to her. “Do you think he’ll like me?”
“Of course he will. He’s Denethor, the Steward of Gondor. What’s not to like?” Serena asked.
Mortar heaved in a great sigh. “Then let’s get moving.” He ran off towards the first inner gate, looking back to see Serena join him. Nothing bad could happen here. Nothing that he knew of. The second level awaited him.
Frodo had known what love felt like. He’d known it, thanks to his relationship with Pearl Took, the first girlfriend he who wooed his heart and made him feel alive. Although, she was bit girly for his tastes. All she cared about was housework and making amends with family members. He did admire her for caring about family.
And yet, his heart longed for adventure. That was why he came to Safe Haven, after Middle-earth started turning around. The items were nearly gone, even though one reader wouldn’t cease dropping items on people’s heads. He wished the item dropping would stop. He was practically half-dead when Gandalf arrived on the Eagles. The rock on Mount Doom had been his resting place. Now, he was freed from Mordor, as soon as the Eagles collected him.
Now he could sleep. He woke up in a different world. A world where the walls were square. He made it. He was alive and well. He’d come to Safe Haven, where new hope awaited him and a fangirl to love him. Now, all that mattered was finding a way to stop the items from dropping altogether. He would save Middle-earth once and for all. But where would he start? Where would he begin? That was the question he would soon have to face, while being in this realm where time stood still.