Here's a fic for all those of us who wonder what exactly happened to the palantíri of Minas Ithil and Osgiliath. I have read the books, but please correct me for inaccuracies. This chronicles a very strange person whose path crosses in a very odd way with the palantíri. I hope you find this story interesting, and the author-added elements not too unbelievable. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own neither Middle-Earth nor anything in it. They belong to the wonderful Mr. Tolkien. I do own the Nameless Character, whom you'll meet in just a little while.
From the Dome of StarsPART ONE: HOMECOMING
Chapter One
As with many great tales, this one begins at the end.
The improvised staff finally split down the middle, and caused its owner to fall onto the dusty, pebbly road. The nine black birds that followed her from Minas Morgul broke their formation, and began to circle continually up in the high heavens, and warned just about every creature, fair or foul, of her presence. She would not even raise a hand to bid them to leave, for she needed every morsel of energy to return to Osgiliath.
Using the now much more slender staff, she managed to prop herself up, but immediately fell down again when she tripped on the overlong cloak she had on. It had been bright crimson once, crimson and almost glowing with power atop the Dark Tower of Mordor. Her knee-length shirt was probably black, though it appeared sooty grey with its coating of Gorgoroth ashes. From this she tore off a strip and wrapped it around her hand, to cover the gash on it and to protect it from splinters of the now rough staff. She paid, however, much more thought to the object in her other hand. It was a perfectly round, black stone, the heart of which seemed to glow. She clutched it against her hollow stomach, taking care not to drop the heavy thing.
As fast as she could she continued down the road, until she collapsed and dropped the stone. The sun was only at midday, and she still had a long way to go. Despite her hunger, thirst and exhaustion, she crawled towards Osgiliath, rolling the stone before her until it was as coated with dust as she was. In the earlier part of her journey she had carried it in a helm, but such protection proved too heavy after Minas Morgul as so was abandoned. Still, it was difficult to move one foot (and one hand) in front of another while her mind screamed the call of the Tower that she served. She willed herself to move forward, until she glimpsed a great stone roof belonging to Osgiliath. It was far off yet, but she spotted two guards walking her way, probably unaware of the dying person. There was not moisture in her mouth to call out, so she raised her hand in a final effort to grab their attention. She clutched the stone to her chest and passed out.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Gandalf leant down and examined the red cloak. He did not dare touch it, for the guard who removed it from the wretch now had great pain in his hands, gloved though they were. It was without doubt that of the Dark Lord that was, and this troubled him greatly. The semi-dead creature had worn this without any apparent damage to her person. If this signified she was a servant of the Shadow, then the Seeing-Stone she had is most likely that of Minas Morgul, recovered from ruins of Barad-dûr. He gingerly picked up the cloak on the end of his staff, took the palantír, and started back to Osgiliath hoping nothing bad had happened in his absence.
He found one of the guards sitting in the shade of a ruined wall, drinking some water to alleviate the heat of the sun. Gandalf bade him to watch over the cloak, then made him repeat his discovery of the servant of the Shadow, but there wasn't much more information to by discovered. He would have thought her just some exhausted, directionless minion who managed her way out or Mordor, save the fact that she carried one of the palantíri. When pondering again the meaning of this, the guard interrupted his thought:
'Lord? There's something you might want to see…'
The guard lead Gandalf to an ancient stone house that looked on the verge of collapsing on them. Once they passed the two sentries at the door, Gandalf saw that there was no need to worry, for the roof had already given in. The prisoner lied in the middle of the floor, in an area cleared of rubble. The guard brushed away some discoloured hair from her forehead with a gauntleted hand, and whispered, 'look at this'.
It was a healing cut, in the shape of the Lidless Eye. This proves whence she came beyond doubt. As it was, Gandalf decided to stay himself until she awakens, so he might question her about the palantír, and the reason of her journey from Mordor. With his foresight, he could sense that it was going to be an interesting story. Gandalf settled himself on one of the more rounded pieces of rock and prepared for a long wait.
He took out his pipe and began to smoke calmly, as if resting again in the jolly land of the Shire, while she passed out of unconsciousness and into deep sleep instead.
Author's Note: I'll try as hard as I can to stick to the timeline of the books, although I might eventually have to bend some things. This is my first Lord of the Rings fic, so please feel free to correct my mistakes. Thank you, dear reader.