This was written for a school thing that was supposed to be 5oo words. i missed the deadline and went over the word limit. this is my first fanfic so please be read and review.


The ship glided slowly into the harbour. As it drew up to the quay, a long wooden gangway slid onto the wharf, and the ship stopped silently. A man strode off the ship, clad in white robes, and bearing a staff. He nodded to the ship-keeper as he passed. Three others disembarked, clad in similar robes, one in an earthen brown, and the others in a sea blue. They too nodded to the bearded ship-keeper. As they left he waited but as no more came he turned to leave. A small movement caught his eye and he turned to see a fifth man upon the ship. That man was like the others clad in robes, though his were grey, and his staff was unlike the others for theirs were carved staves topped with a stone, his was a branch of oak, topped with a knarled clump of roots. In this man the ship-keeper saw much power. He removed a gold ring set with a ruby from his finger, and as the grey clad man walked past he said,

"Take this ring, for your labours will be heavy, but it will support you in the weariness you have chosen. For this is the Ring of Fire, and with it you may rekindle hearts in a world that grows chill. But as for me, my heart is with the Sea, and I will dwell by the grey shores until the last ship sails. I will await you." The grey man took the ring and in that instant, a friendship was kindled that never grew dim.

Centuries pass. The men of blue have passed into the east, the men of brown and of white dwell now in lands of their own choosing. But the man of grey remains a pilgrim, known by many names, in many tongues, but always as the grey pilgrim.

Centuries pass. The mind of the man of white has fallen to the Enemy and is the man of many colours. The man of brown has forsaken men for the birds and the beasts. But the man of grey leads eight beneath a mountain. But dwelling within the mountain is a powerful foe, and he bids the eight to run. He passes through fire and water in pursuit of his foe. Upon the mountain top, he threw down his foe. But he passed from this world.

Weeks pass. The man of grey returns. But he returns as the man of white, yet how the man of white should have remained. He breaks the staff and the power of the man of many colours, and aids men in the destruction of the great Enemy, and his power is greater than that of the black nine of the Enemy.

Years pass and he returns to a land forgotten by men. He is greeted by many he once knew, and they ask his name of him as they marvel at his arrival, for they do not remember who he once was. With a smile creasing his worn face, he replies,

"I am Gandalf, and I am home."