40 The Last Battle for Middle Earth

The audience got another face full of bloody sand as I returned in a ball of fire and smoke to deliver a flying punch right to that short stack powerhouse. Tom's body hit the ground and bounced off as I transitioned back to my feet so I gave him a fine punt for his troubles. Leaping after him we grappled and delivered dirty boxing strikes as we flew through east through the air.

We plowed into the Great River like a pair of artillery shells spraying water onto Osgiliath hundreds of yards away. He punched my face twice as I tried to strangle him, breaking my hold but I dropped an elbow on him before he locked his legs around my hips and threw me to the ground, leaping up and landing a soccer kick to my head.

I caught the next kick and twisted my body sharply to pull him over me and slam him face first into the riverbank. I kept my hold on his ankle despite his kicks to my hand as I got to my feet and started whipping him around over and over into the ground, sending up great gouts of dirt and water with each strike.

Tom transitioned mid slam into an arm bar and put his back into it. I fought against the hold, and slammed him into a nearby tree which snapped in half, and then into a boulder that shattered, but Tom kept the hold even as I dug a thumb into his eye.

A terrible pop echoed from both of us as Tom popped my elbow and I popped his eye. Little bastard almost took my arm with him as a souvenir but when my thumb found his other eye the first being finally let go.

We staggered away from each other and I faked an overhand and slipped into a hook right to his ribs that nearly folded Tom in half and sent him flying right through the stone wall of Osgiliath.

I took a moment to willpower my arm back together, but barely got it to a quarter healed by the time Tom burst back through the wreckage and I had to dodge his superman punch. Tom transitioned into the GSP combo by sending a leg kick that sent me to the floor where the little man went for a heel hook.

No way in hell was I going to let the guy go surgical on me and operate on my limbs one at a time, I rolled like gater to keep one step ahead of Tom as he tried to get my heel in his lock, and when he failed to get a good outside heel hook I took his back a landed brutal punches on the back of his head.

Three ground shattering shots blew the hat off Tom's head and blew down the nearby buildings before Tom managed to wiggle out of my sloppy mount. He struck me with a flurry of short punches to back me off him then dove for my leg, lifting me up by leaping into the air where we continued our battle as we arced through the sky.

We jockeyed for position as we neared the unbreakable shield mountains of Mordor, and with only one good arm, I came out the worst for it, but with only one eye Tom failed to defend many strikes and his face on that side looked more like hamburger than man.

I felt many ribs and disks fracture as he drove me into the mountain, and Tom locked his legs on my chest as he rained down furious punches onto my face that I rolled to defend and for the first time in a long time I felt my mind slipping under the impacts.

I managed to punch the smaller being off me, but Tom remained on his feet and sought to end me with soccer kicks, one, two, two and a half, two and seven eights, three. He kicked me a lot.

What happened next is a stain on my honor as a brawler, but as I felt him reaching the W I shapeshifted my bad arm into a dragon's maw and bit down on his leg causing Tom Bombadil to cry out in pain for the first time, and then I burnt him.

Tom screamed as his leg blackened, and the skin sloughed off allowing his bony thigh to pull free, leaving his ankle with me. The battered being wept as he crawled away and I held my hand out, my great cleaver flying across Gondor to land in it.

"There my pretty lady is, River-woman's daughter,

Slender as the willow-wand, clearer than the water." Tom gasped as I limped over to his retreating form.

"Old Tom Bombadil water-lilies bringing

Comes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing?" he sang with gritted teeth as I caught up with him.

"Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! and merry-o!

Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berr…" Tom croaked his last as my sword came down on his neck.

My craven work done, I collapsed on my ass, and caught my breath. Once my mind stopped reeling I got to work putting myself back together, but the powers that were had other plans and Eonwe's sword skittered off my armored chest, followed by the rest of the Valar and their servants, the Maiar.

The full heavenly host charged at me like all the stars in the sky falling at once in their bright splendor, the kind of thing I would gladly face any other time, but not today. I spat a coating of blood on my chopper and executed a spinning slash, and the coating of blood launched across the horizon. Each and every one of the countless specs hit like a depleted uranium tank shell, and the brilliant lights of the heavenly host darkened as all but Eonwe fell within its zone of destruction. The deific beings large and small exploded and shredded upon contact with even a single drop of blood, driven by both magical and physical might.

The Maiar who slipped past me as his initial attack failed fell to his knees, and I wasted no time cleaving him during his moment of ultimate despair.

I raised a simple stone throne and sat, looking out at the wreckage of the derelict gods of this world, and I felt not an ounce of pity for them, but I still flexed my power to put them back together again, for the only true tragedy is waste.

They proved nothing noble with their deaths here. Not like Theoden, Aragorn, and Glorfindel. But their bodies and their power, noble cause could still be met with those. They gave me enough materials to jumpstart the rebirth of this world and to complete my other projects, for creation takes a lot out of a god, but not if he has the right materials on hand.

I looked at Tom Bomberdil and his burnt off leg. My personal shame. He came to me with fists and I slew him with sorcery. I hefted his form over my shoulder to carry personally, as he would some day carry me as my personal ship, the Song of Creation.