A/N If you have not read Eradan, you will be confused. So I would suggest reading that first. :)
... Yeah... I had absolutely no intention of continuing Eradan... However, I was asked by quite a few people to continue this... so I will... LOL. That does mean some of the conversation - from the movies, not books - will be in here, though it's only for this chapter... Hopefully it lives up to what you guys imagine, and that I can make it interesting enough for you to continue to read... We'll see... If not, well... I guess you won't. :D
Just so you understand this chapter, it's going to seem abrupt because that's the way I wanted it. :)
Also, I love Pippin, don't doubt that. That is all.
Everything Always Comes at a Cost
The heat was gone. The pressure he had seemed to carry on his shoulders just vanished. His worries and fears just melted to nothing.
It felt as if he was floating on air and he wanted nothing more than just to relax. He didn't know where he was, didn't know exactly who he was, and it didn't seem to matter.
There was a snort of laughter, making the man frown. The sound was familiar to the young man, but it seemed as if he had not heard it in a long while. "Do you plan to sleep eternity away? Perhaps you have already forgotten me?"
Green eyes snapped open and Eradan bolted upright, his bare feet landing softly on grass. In front of him stood Halbarad, a roguish grin in place. "Moony!"
"I haven't heard you call me that in years, brat."
With a strangled laugh, Eradan rushed forward, wrapping his arms around his uncle and squeezed as tightly as he could. Unable to say anything past the constriction in his throat, Eradan buried his face in Halbarad's shirt and kept clinging to the other man.
All Halbarad could do was awkwardly pat the black-haired Istar on the back. After a few more seconds, Halbarad gently pried Eradan off him. "Enough of this. Come."
Giving another laugh, this one in pure joy, Eradan nodded. For the first time since his arrival, he paid attention to what was around him. Nothing seemed to be what he thought it should be.
Hills rose and fell gently, but what he had once thought was grass, wasn't. It appeared to be more like flowing color of greens and blues. The hills seemed as if they were breathing without any consistent rhythm.
As the two walked, Eradan watched with wonder at all that was around him. Air seemed to sing as it blew past, visible with ever changing colors. Beasts of all kinds flew, leaped or ran - whatever they seemed to prefer at that moment. Clouds changed shapes before they floated to the earth to paint that image on the moving ground. The painting would flash a color and whatever shape it was would grow from the earth and became alive - no matter how odd the shape was.
"Where are we?"
Halbarad looked over at his nephew, his head cocked to the side as they paused. "We are where you want to be."
The younger man blinked, "What?"
The ranger shrugged, "It was explained to me, but it made little sense. It was something like: when we die, we can create and change where we are. It's a replica of what we want at that moment."
Looking around, Eradan raised a brow at the sights before him before shrugging. "What do I want?"
"How am I supposed to know?" Halbard grinned at him before walking on. "Perhaps you wanted complete freedom. Or it could be you wanted chaos. I don't know and I don't care."
"What does yours look like?"
Halbarad looked anywhere but at the boy, "What I see does not matter. Though when I first came, this is near enough to what I saw."
"It changes?"
He nodded, "Once you remember."
"Remember? Remember what?" Eradan closed his eyes. He tried to call upon something, anything, but all he came up with was a blank slate. He furrowed his brows, but he couldn't dredge up the emotion to be confused or scared that he couldn't seem to remember what he was supposed to.
He even tried to remember where and how he knew Halbarad and he came up with no answer. The two walked in silence, the older man lead him towards something that looked like a mixture of brown, red and white water.
"What is that?"
"Memories. Your memories." Halbarad plopped onto the ground, resting on the moving earth. "You walk in, watch what happens and go from there."
"The colors don't seem right."
The other man just closed his eyes and murmured, "The colors will represent what you will see."
"You don't seem right." Eradan sat next to the man, propping his chin on his palm while his elbow rested on his knee. "You... seem different." Now the younger man growled. "Why I know that, or how I know you, I do not know."
Chuckling, the man nodded. "That's what the pool is for. You'll know why and how once you've viewed your memories. That is, if you choose to view your memories."
"I can choose?"
Halbarad used his arms to push himself into a sitting position, his eyes opening. "Yes. That's why someone is here when you first die, to explain it all to you. How this place works and all that."
"Who came to you?"
Again, Halbarad closed off like he had when Eradan had asked what the man's scenery was. When the man spoke, he completely ignored the younger man's question. "The colors in your memory pool are brown, red and white. Brown means that you dedicated everything you are to what you have accomplished in your life, and that you have no regrets. Red means you have seen blood and have shed it. That you have killed." Eradan recoiled, but Halbarad kept going, "White means you were a healer or an Istar." It looked like the man was going to say more, but abruptly shut his mouth. "Either you choose to watch these memories and remember your whole life, or you choose not to and live in peaceful ignorance for the rest of eternity."
"You aren't the only one I don't remember."
Halbarad nodded. "Right. If you choose to ignore your memories, you won't remember those you've forgotten. You can still visit those who you knew in your life - you'll only remember their names and faces once you see them - but any memory that you once had of them will remain in the pool. If they chose to remember and you don't, it is not possible to speak of your past or their own in ways that are connected to you.
"By choosing to ignore your memories you are free from the burden of knowledge and will know only bliss. Yet as you know: everything always comes at a cost.
"Those who have viewed their memories will remember and their relationship with you. Your ignorance of such relations and past associations will cause them pain. If you choose to view your memories it may cause you pain, but you will remember your life and the people in it, with all the joys and sorrows that you went through." Halbarad began to mist away, his body slowly evaporating, an expression of irritation on his face, though Eradan couldn't say why. "If you decide to relive your memories, you just have to walk into the water. If you don't, the memories won't leave, but will wait until you are ready to face them."
With those last words the older man was gone, leaving Eradan alone beside his memories. Green eyes wandered over to the strange looking water and he sighed, knowing he really didn't have a choice.
Why he felt that way, he didn't know. Yet he stood, brushed off his trousers in a long forgotten habit and walked into the swirling mixture of colors.
Fools
It was strange... he was in his body, but he was detached as he paid attention to what he had done in the past.
Eradan coughed, waving a hand in front of his face to clear the dust that had come from the small cave in. For a moment he was tempted to tell Gimli that he had been wrong in wanting to go through Moria, but the young man held his tongue. Instead, he slammed his staff onto the ground, a gust of wind erupting around him to push the dust into the further corners of the entrance hall even as Mithrandir caused light to emit from his own staff.
"We now have but one choice... we must face the long dark of Moria." Mithrandir looked around the group, his face serious as he studied each in the fellowship. When he looked at Merry and Pippin, the elder Istar looked upset. "Be on your guard, there are older and fouler things than the Orcs in the deep places of the world."
The two hobbits looked properly abashed and Eradan had the strange urge to chuckle even though it was clearly not the right time to do so.
He moved his gaze to each of the fellowship. Boromir did not keep his disdain and fury hidden; he was openly glaring at the stricken Gimli. Legolas seemed as serene as ever, though the area around his eyes were a bit tight if the wrinkles were anything to go by. Merry was nudging Pippin in the side, a disapproving look held on his face. Pippin gave his cousin a sour look before nudging him back, whispering, "You can't just blame me."
Merry huffed, "Well, it was your idea. Not mine."
Sam was looking at Frodo in concern. As for Frodo, the hobbit looked exhausted and was keeping most of his weight on his left foot.
Ignoring the others, Eradan moved towards the hobbits. No one was really paying attention to what the young Istar was doing which was mostly because he was closer to where the entrance had once stood.
His Ada and Halbarad were the only ones who truly noticed Eradan's movements, and the two were merely watching with open curiosity. The others were already making their way up the staircase that would lead them deeper into the mines, but when Frodo and Sam meant to catch up to Merry and Pippin the young Istar stood in their way.
When the perians stopped Eradan knelt down with a small smile. Frodo looked up at him, his blue eyes locking with bright green. Surprise was shining in the smaller man's gaze. Eradan didn't usually talk to anyone outside of his Ada, Uncle Moony or Mithrandir.
"Were you hurt?"
Even though he spoke softly his words echoed in the vast hall and caused the ones on the staircase to pause and look over their shoulders. If Eradan had glanced behind him he would have chuckled at their utter surprise.
"No," the word was merely a squeak that came from the small hobbit as if he were worried that he would slow down the journey if he confirmed Eradan's suspicions.
Placing his staff on the ground in between Frodo and himself, Eradan reached a single finger forward and pressed it gently against the Hobbit's forehead. "Forgive me, but I wish to make sure that you were not harmed from the beast."
A blush darkened Frodo's neck and he looked around at everyone else. He shook his head - dislodging Eradan's finger - and tried to pull away, but froze when a scowl plastered itself on the young Istar's face.
"I did not want you to come," Eradan whispered harshly, his eyes bright with anger. "This journey is far too dangerous for hobbits. I know the ring found its way into the fellowship because of you and Bilbo, however you do not have to be here to see this journey through."
Frodo opened his mouth to refute what Eradan had said, but the young man continued, "However, I also understand that also gives you personal incentive and motivation for you to go on this journey more so than any other.
"You, and the other hobbits, must understand that you are all a liability. None of you can fight, nor do you know how to hold a sword well. You are smaller than us which allows you to be a bit more agile than some. Yet being smaller is also a disadvantage in that you are neither as fast nor as strong as any of us or our enemies.
"If you are wounded, you are even more of a liability than you started out as. So, I say again: I wish to make sure that you were not harmed from the beast. What say you?"
Frodo's mouth momentarily fell open and at first he refused to meet Eradan's unrelenting gaze. Moments passed quietly in the cave before the hobbit's shoulders slumped and he nodded.
Eradan nodded and once again placed his finger on Frodo's head. The young Istar spoke softly, "What is hidden, come to be known." The rush of knowledge passed over him and it was only through years of training that he was not overwhelmed. All of the information that came to his mind was not just what ailed Frodo, but where his bones were placed, where his blood roamed, where his heart beat, where every artery was.
He didn't have time to ponder anything; he was pulled out of one instance and transferred to a different memory.
The hobbits were carefully placed in the corner of the upper level, shrouded by deep shadows that Eradan had called forth. Sweat covered his brow as he worked on keeping the spell around the perians, but they kept moving around even after he ordered them to be still.
Around them the battle raged on. Eradan was shooting off arrows at goblins, his aim hitting his mark each and every time. However, he wasn't able to move as quickly as he was accustomed to because of the drain of using so much magic on those who didn't wish the protection his magic gave them.
Magic worked for those willing - or, more accurately, those who did not, or were not able to, fight its work - to be under its wing and embrace. The way the hobbits were moving around made it seem as if they would rather be away from the safety of the magic he had to offer and as such, made it harder to keep his control in place.
Not only that, but he didn't have years and years of practice like Mithrandir did. He was still considered an apprentice - he wouldn't be able to advance in the Istari ranks until he had worked with magic for at least a score of years.
The only reason his barrier stayed in tact was because of the efforts of Merry and Sam. Those two held onto Frodo and Pippin and keeping them within the safety that Eradan gave them. If it weren't for those two, the Istar's barrier would have shattered.
The scene shifted... Everything seemed to blur together... The Fellowship running out of the tomb and into the corridor... The goblins running away... The Balrog following them... Eradan stumbling, weak from all of his use of magic as the group ran... And ran... Until they finally reached a small bridge that would lead to their escape, but they had to slow down to a jog so they wouldn't fall.
Eradan was in front of the hobbits and behind his Ada with Legolas in front while Halbarad followed behind Merry with Gimli behind him and Boromir between the dwarf and Mithrandir who was bringing up the rear.
The young Istar had to keep his focus on his father's back otherwise he knew he would stumble more than he was. His eyesight was blackening around the edges and swirling, grey dots were spotting his vision, but he had to keep moving.
It didn't take long for them to reach the other side and when he turned around to finally look at the Balrog, Eradan felt his entire frame freeze.
Mithrandir was still on the bridge, but he was near the middle and he was standing in front of the Balrog, his shout echoing around the cavern and racing towards the rest of the group: "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun." Eradan couldn't breathe as the Balrog swung its flame sword at Mithrandir, the weapon shattered into molten fragments. "Go back to the shadow! You, shall not, pass!" The Istar slamming his staff into the bridge, a cracking sound easily heard from where Eradan and the others stood.
The Balrog sent its whip out, but the bridge crumbled beneath its feet and sent it tumbling into the abyss. However, when Eradan thought all was well, it's whip lashed up and latched itself around Mithrandir's ankle and dragged him over the edge.
His whisper, "Fly, you fools" barely reached Eradan's ears before his mentor fell after the monster.
Consumed by Hate
No longer was he in the hot confines of Moria. Instead, he was surrounded by beautiful trees. Elves walked on the limbs silently, watching those who rested beneath the trees' leaves. There was a soft, endless song that whispered around and through the forest, but Eradan knew he hadn't seen or heard those the first time. Instead, he had focused on something internal, pushing all thoughts of other existence from his comprehension.
Whispers in the branches tried to lull Eradan into a sleep. Soft murmurings of unheard words floated towards him on a non existent wind. The crunching of gravel hinted at footsteps, but he could never quite get a glimpse of who walked.
He might of seen had he truly looked. He might have heard if he truly listened. He might have slept if he let go of his anger.
Instead, he could only focus on the tight ball of heat that resided in his belly. The area around his eyes were tight, the skin between his eyebrows were pinched and his lips were pressed into a thin line.
His glare was directed at a sole person, but that person never met his gaze. Perhaps the other couldn't meet his gaze because of discomfort. Perhaps the other wouldn't meet his gaze because of guilt. Either way, Eradan did not hide his fury and he cared not who saw his animosity. Perhaps it was better for all to know about his ire with that particular hobbit instead of allowing it simmer in the background until the Istar exploded.
Eradan always had a quick temper. His anger would momentarily flash across his face, yet he was able to clamp down on his emotions before it got out of hand. However, that wasn't the case at the moment as waves of magic pulsed from his body.
He was pulled out of his wrath filled fog when a hand was pressed gently onto his shoulder. Swiftly turning his glare to the one who dared to approach him, Eradan almost groaned when Halbarad crouched down next to him.
"It has been a long time since I saw you this angry."
"How did he con you into talking to me this time?"
The ranger scoffed as he situated himself in front of Eradan and taking a seat, blocking the younger man's view of Peregrin Took. "I am sure I do not know of which you speak."
With his line of sight broken, Eradan's attention focused on Halbarad. The young man snorted at his uncle's words, but felt no amusement. "Bribe? Promise? Blackmail? Which is it?"
"Surely I am able to comfort my nephew in his time of need."
"You're lousy at comforting anyone, Halbarad." Eradan settled himself against the trunk of the tree he was supposed to be resting near. "You know it - I'm almost positive you're proud of that fact - Ada certainly knows it and I know from first hand experience. Yet he somehow manages to get you to come back and try again time after time."
Halbarad leaned forward and ruffled Eradan's already messy hair, ignoring the young man's petulant scowl. "Alright, I don't do comforting. I prefer the hard truth."
Crossing his arms, Eradan cocked his head to the side, "Well, obviously you have something to say or Ada wouldn't have forced you over here to bother me." Eradan looked over his shoulder to look at his father and a small, slightly pained, smile flited across his features. "He doesn't do well when he has to confront others, does he?"
"He has no problems with confronting others that are not his family."
"He confronts you all the time." Eradan turned back around to raise an eyebrow at the ranger.
Shaking his head, Halbarad explained, "Those are not all confrontations. Those are petty arguments that harm no one. They merely irritate those around us and provide us with amusement. The confrontations were instigated by myself and with a purpose. You, child, are changing the subject."
"Alright, alright, what do you have to say? And I'm not a child anymore, Halbarad."
If there was one trait that Eradan could have changed about his uncle, it would have been the habit that Halbarad had of simply saying whatever was on his mind. His words tended to cut through and Halbarad did not dance around the point he was trying to make. However, that was the same trait that Eradan found refreshing and even enjoyed watching when Halbarad wasn't directing his words at his nephew. "I know that you're upset with Pippin, and Gandalf's death is partially his fault. However, the whole blame cannot rest on his shoulders alone."
Jumping to his feet, Eradan felt his anger rise once again. "Of course it is! If you want examples, I'll give them to you: he was the reason those goblins found us! He was the reason that the Balrog was woken up! It was his fault that we were stuck in those mines! If he had just left the water alone we would have seen the work of the goblins and would have left! If he had just stopped touching things that shouldn't be touched, Mithrandir would still be here! If he and the other hobbits would have just stayed at Imladris and went home, we wouldn't have been slowed down and worrying about them surviving when they have no experience with fighting or wandering about in the wilderness.
"Everything that goes towards them are provisions we could have used for ourselves. We would have moved quicker and more silently. Instead we move at a snail's pace. Instead Mithrandir..." He stopped, turning his head away as his fury rose to cloud his mind and his vision tunneled as his breathing came out in harsh pants.
Taking deep breaths, Eradan closed his eyes and focused on his training. He moved his emotions around until they were compartmentalized and he could handle them better. The young man dusted off his legs to get the dirt off, giving him something to do other than focusing on his anger. Eradan bent down to grab his staff, using it to help keep his balance. He ignored that he was the center of attention. Instead, he spoke in a calm voice devoid of emotion, "Excuse the outburst. I know you mean well, Halbarad, and I will do my best to heed your advice."
Before he could walk away Halbarad was on his feet, his eyes hard as his arm snaked out and gripped the younger man's shoulder in an unrelenting to grasp.
"You - who was raised with the Eldar, mentored under the Istari and trained with the Edain - know nothing." His words were spoken softly and with no heat, but that only caused his words to have greater impact than they would have been if he had yelled. Pain was clear in Eradan's green eyes before the emotion was hidden from view. Halbarad kept his voice soft so no others could overhear, except Legolas and the elves of Lothlórien. "You say you have grown, but right now you are acting as a child. It is at times like these I remember you are not quite a score yet. Yes, we have lost Gandalf, and part of that blame can be lain at the man's feet himself. He could have asked for your help.
"However, you were too tired to be of much use. That part of the blame can only be rested on you. No," he hissed when Eradan went to speak, "You could have let the hobbits fight. Yes, they might have gotten hurt, but we would have stopped them from being killed."
"How would we have stopped that cave troll when -"
"We would have protected them when they would have needed it and you wouldn't have been exhausted which means you could have helped Gandalf against the Balrog. Instead, you made your own choice. Pippin did the same. How was he to know what monster lurked under that lake? No one else did. Yes," he continued, when Eradan made to speak up, "we knew there was something not right about the water outside the mines, but that is simply because we Dúnedain were trained to observe. As you say, these hobbits are not meant to fight. However, you also admitted that they have more right to be here than most of us.
"It is impossible to lay the blame on any one person. Blame it on me, I should have paid the hobbits more attention. Blame it on the dwarf because he was the one who ran into that room with no other thought but denial. Blame it on the elf because out of everyone, his senses should have warned us of something in advance. Blame it on Boromir because he does not act unless forced to. Blame it on your father because he could have forced us to move faster. Do not let yourself be consumed by hate."
Halbard released Eradan's arm and the young man could only deflate.
Not meeting anyone's gaze, Eradan walked off. He knew his uncle was right, but that didn't make the turmoil of emotions go away.
Embarrassment was what he mainly felt. Though the anger and hurt was still there, always there. The embarrassment would leave, but as Eradan viewed his memory, he knew the anger wouldn't.
They had a day left until they would leave Lothlórien. He had only seen the Lady Galadriel once - when they had first entered into her realm which was the day before Halbard had chastised him. He had stayed hidden from view for the past few days, not wanting to see anyone.
Instead, he focused on the pouch resting on his palm. Inside it laid the ring, unable to leave the leather that encased it. He had enchanted the bag before they had ever set off from Imladris. The spells were constantly leeching the magic he had around him.
He had created a specific protection around the opening of the pouch that would allow the ring to enter, but wouldn't be allowed to be removed unless it was near intense heat: a temperature that could only be achieved inside a volcano. It was Eradan and Mithrandir's hope that the heat from Mount Doom would be enough to end the protection spell.
The other protection spells around the pouch helped to keep others away from the ring and its influences. They were simple magics, making others believe that there actually was no pouch, or to confuse any who who neared the bag.
Sighing, Eradan carefully placed the pouch back into his pocket that had its own protection spells weaved around it. That spell made it so only he could take the pouch out of his pocket and that the pouch was not able to slip out by any other means.
Of course, once Eradan stopped focusing on the ring Halbarad's voice spoke in his mind replaying the harsh reprimand, but it didn't matter that he understood what his uncle had said. The words did nothing to stop his anger towards Peregrine.
Perhaps he wouldn't be able to stop the anger completely, ever. Perhaps he would always hate that perian. Perhaps.
Maybe that was alright. Maybe he didn't have to force himself to let go of his anger. That anger wouldn't hurt the hobbit, especially since Eradan did understand that perhaps it wasn't completely Peregrine's fault. Eradan would still protect the hobbit, but he wouldn't go out of his way to help him nor the other hobbits when it was not necessarily needed.
Sighing, Eradan rubbed his forehead. He couldn't even fool himself. He would still help them. He was a healer after all. But that didn't mean that healers were saints. They were still allowed their anger and their grief.
Hands rested on his shoulders, forcing the young man to turn. Aragorn's arms wrapped around Eradan's shoulders and the young man leaned into his father's embrace, crying into the ranger's shoulders. The young Istar didn't even mind that his father's presence meant the ranger had been waiting for him to crumble.
As his tears dried, Eradan still found the anger lurking beneath the surface. Maybe one day he would forgive Peregin. Aragorn lead him back to the others, Eradan took the seat next to his uncle. As he looked into Halbarad's eyes he saw understanding.
No, Eradan probably wouldn't lose his anger. And that was ok.
A Dark Way
Chaos. Shouts. Movement. Too much was going on to truly understand.
Eradan was up in a tree, resting hidden from view on the limbs and surrounded by leaves. His bow was out as he watched over the hobbits in their hiding places in the shrubs. Orcs raced by, unknowing the four hobbits were hidden in the shrubs that lay by the shore.
Luckily, Eradan didn't have to shoot any of the orcs because they had taken one look at the deserted camp and went racing back into the forest. How they found the camp so quickly was beyond Eradan's knowledge.
But one thing was quite clear to him: he couldn't stay with the group.
Together they moved too slow, making it easier for the enemy to catch up to them. Alone he wouldn't have to deal with complaints: what time they were to stop to eat or worry slowing down because one of the hobbits grew tired.
He could move in the shadows. Though his heart shuddered at the thought that Sauron's eye would be on his Ada and Uncle, he knew it was the wisest move. They could take care of themselves.
The wind played with his hair. The water danced with the breeze. The sense of fear encompassed him with the knowledge that the next choice had to happen.
Eradan and Aragorn stared at each other, Anduin parted them. The water danced, a barrier between father and son. On the opposite bank stood his Ada, his uncle, Legolas and Gimli. Where Boromir or the other two hobbits were Eradan could only guess.
Aragorn stood in the water, the waves lapping at his boots and legs. His hands were grasping the small boat that could take him to his son, but Halbarad had a restricting hand on the elder's shoulder.
The young Istar saw his Ada's mouth move as he said something to Halbarad, but the words were lost on the breeze. Turning his gaze to the left, Eradan caught sight of the waterfall, water flying high in the air. White froth being tossed and turned by the spiralling waves.
His heart ached at having to leave his family behind, but Eradan truly saw no other option. Taking a deep breath, Eradan turned towards his father and placed his fist over his heart as he bowed. As he straightened, he extended his arm out before loosening his fingers so his palm faced towards the ranger.
There wasn't a moments hesitation when his father mirrored the move.
Without a backwards glance, Eradan turned and walked forward, two insistent hobbits following in his wake.
A strange creature. Skin like waxen paper. Features spread harshly across its face. Wide, bulbous eyes. Sharp teeth. Following them. Staying hidden above the rocks. Sleep trying to overtake his conscious mind.
Eradan leaned against the rock wall, his eyes closed as if in sleep. He waited... and waited... and waited. After about an hour, the young Istar wondered if the creature could tell that he was not sleeping. He also asked himself what the creature wanted with them.
Perhaps the creature was a carnivore. However, the body shape of the thing didn't have that much power to overpower anyone and all it was was skin and bones. If it was also a carnivore, it wouldn't have waited so long to pounce. So Eradan stayed awake, keeping the watch, his hand clutching the pouch that held the ring protectively.
The night peaked and finally the creature began its descent, the falling of loose rocks were all the warning Eradan needed. Thankfully his hand was near his staff and it would take less than three seconds for him to reach out and grasp it.
The two hobbits slept peacefully, unaware that a creature stalked them. Flexing his fingers, Eradan waited, the sleep that had threatened to overtake him was gone in the wake of the enemy's approach.
"The thieves! The thieves," a voice, thin and mangled, floated down to him. "The filthy little thieves! Where is it? Where is it? They stole it from us. My precious. Curse them! We hates them! It's ours, it is... and we wants it! They has it, but we can't finds it!"
The voice, now right above Eradan's head, spoke louder, harsher and the Istar knew it was time to act.
He reached upward and grabbed the creature by the throat, pinning it down where the thing couldn't move. "So it's you, Gollum. You were in the caves, following us." The glare Gollum aimed at him didn't diminish and, thinking on his Adate's teaching, Eradan grabbed his staff and gently placed the tip of it against the creature's head.
He spoke quietly, the tip of his staff growing brighter with every second. Gollum screamed, waking the two hobbits. Sam and Frodo watched with their mouths hanging open as Gollum twisted and screeched, renting the air with foul profanities.
Eradan finally stopped speaking and the light vanished. Gollum had blacked out and Eradan felt near faint, too.
What he had done was not something permanent that would cure Gollum. Instead, he had taken the magic around Gollum to create a barrier between Gollum's actual mind and the ring's influence. The barrier would not last more than two years. Gollum's mind and the ring's presence had already molded and it was too difficult to completely sever the connection, but hopefully it would give them enough time to gain help from the old hobbit.
That was the last thought that had crossed Eradan's mind before he slipped to the ground, unconsciousness seizing him at last.
The stench of the dead rose high into the air. Bodies, pale and twisted, floated below the surface. The earth spongy and wet where they treaded. Fear the small flicker of lights, anguish for those who died, anger that many died for a pointless fight.
Sméagol's words carried softly, no wind to carry the sound away. "All dead. All rotten. Elves and men and orcses. A great battle long ago. The Dead Marshes. Yes, yes that is their name. This way. Don't follow the lights."
Sam's foot was about to slip into the water when Eradan reached forward and yanked him back onto the path.
"Careful now, or hobbits go down to join the dead ones and light little candles of their own."
Towers, tall and black, stood in front of them. Billowing black clouds rolled high above them. Shouts of pain and fear echoed back to them.
Eradan watched as lines and lines of Easterling soldiers marched into the open gates of Mordor.
"The Black Gate of Mordor," Sméagol whispered quietly. "I show you the Black Gates of Mordor."
Nodding mutely, Eradan kept a tight grip on both of the hobbits cloaks so they wouldn't get any ideas of entering Mordor through the gates.
As they watched quietly, the Istar turned to Sméagol. "Is there no other way inside?"
The old hobbit sat on his haunches, eyes closed tightly as his sharp nails dug into the palms of his spidery hands. "Yes. There's another way. More secret. A dark way."
"Why haven't you spoken of this before?!" Sam hissed at Sméagol.
Eradan smacked Sam on the back of the head. "We asked him to show us to the Black Gates. He has taken us here. How was he to know that we might want to know if there's another path to take?" When Sam looked properly abashed, Eradan turned to Sméagol. "Where is this other path?"
"We take the Cirith Ungol Stairs... Dangerous... Difficult."
"Where would these stairs lead us?" Eradan asked quietly as he backed away from his spot so that he wouldn't tumble down the steep incline. He knew the answer, but he wanted to make sure that Sméagol wasn't going to lead them to a trap or lie outright.
"Shelob's Lair," Sméagol whispered. "Labyrinth. Maze."
"The Great Spider?"
"Yes."
"Great Spider?"
Eradan nodded and sat, hidden from those below them. "Yes. I will tell you about her. She is a dangerous beast and very, very old."
Frodo and Sam sat in front of Eradan while Sméagol kept guard and watched for any who drew near them. "How old?" Sam asked.
"No one truly knows. She is the daughter of Ungoliant, Melkor's - later known as Morgoth - steed. He was the first Dark Lord and he was master of Sauron. Just so you're aware of how long ago this was, I will tell you a little of Morgoth.
"He was made in the beginning, before the world was even solvent. He was the first Ainu created by Eru Iluvatar in the Timeless Halls at the beginning of creation." When the hobbits nodded, eyes wide, Eradan went back to the topic of Shelob and her sire.
"The best estimation of her birth was back in the First Age. Perhaps she was born in the Ered Gorgoroth, but no one is certain of the fact. By the Second Age, there are more concrete facts of her existence. She feasted on her own children, fled Beleriand and spun her lair here in Ephel Duath. She created her lair long before Sauron reigned over Mordor, before the first stone of Barad-dûr was placed. She resided there for thousands of years. There has been speculation that the reason Sauron claimed Mordor was because of her presence.
"She is immense and very dangerous. Do you know the way through her lair, Sméagol?"
"Yes."
"And it will take us into Mordor?"
There was a slight pause before Sméagol answered, "Yes."
"Wait, you can't seriously be thinking of going this way!"
"If it is the only way into Mordor, I will go. Seeing as the safest route you two can take is with Sméagol and I, you two will go also."
The two paled drastically.
Ignoring them, Eradan faced Sméagol. "If you will lead me through Shelob's labyrinth, we will go that way."
I Thought You Dead
Calm. Trees behind them. Water flowed before them, the soft lapping of waves on rock, a soft lullaby trying to lull those around them to sleep.
Eradan sat in front of the stream, washing his face and closing his eyes. They were only a day away from Minas Morgul, where the Witch-King ruled. The small group had followed after Sméagol who lead them dutifully to where they needed to go.
Bringing his arms over his head, Eradan quickly popped his back. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he stretched. Lowering his arms once more, the Istar looked into the water and did his customary skry.
Every time he did, he looked for his father so he could see what was happening. The last few times he hadn't caught sight of Halbarad, but that could have been because his uncle wasn't near Aragorn at the time.
Before he really had a time to study his father, the water began to blur and shift, the image went in and out of focus. Eradan frowned before bringing his staff before him. The only time that a skried image became blurry was when someone was scrying the scrier.
Blowing gently over the tip of his staff, he lowered it until the tip barely touched the water. He figured he should find out who was looking in on him and why.
Seconds later... Eradan fell backwards to land on his ass. Mithrandir's face was before him, eyeing him critically. Those bright blue eyes blinked a few times before his mentor's voice spoke from the water, "Eradan?"
"Mithrandir?" Eradan whispered. "How? I thought you dead. I saw you fall." He looked over his shoulder, happy to see that the two hobbits were all sleeping. Sméagol was keeping watch from his little nest of leaves on the other side of the river. "And..." he paused and really took in Mithrandir's features. "You have taken Saruman's place."
"I have." Mithrandir smiled at his student. "As lovely as it is to speak with you, now is not the time for pleasantries. We do not have much time."
Understanding, Eradan nodded and began, "We are going to take the Cirith Ungol Stairs to enter Shelob's lair. We will be at the foot of the stairs in two days time."
"No one alive knows their way through her labyrinth. It will be suicide!" Mithrandir frowned, hastily looking over his shoulder as if worried he had woken someone with his outburst.
"It would be, if we did not have Sméagol. He has been through her maze before and knows it's traps and he knows the fastest way through."
"Can he be trusted?"
Eradan nodded. "The influence of the ring is temporarily contained. We will be fine. Though we could use a distraction so we can get to Mount Doom."
"Where is he?!" Aragorn's voice called out before his face was next to Mithrandir. "Son."
"Ada," Eradan whispered, a wistful smile curling his lips. "It's good to see you."
"And you. Are you well?"
Laughing softly, Eradan answered, "As well as one can be. How is Ammë? Adate? Uncle?"
Aragorn's face fell and he didn't meet Eradan's eyes with his own. Eradan's heart began to pound as he asked, "Ada, what happened? Who's hurt? What happened?"
"Halbarad..." Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment before he replied, voice stronger. "He fell at Helm's Deep. He saved Haldir."
"Helm's Deep? Lothlórien elves?" Eradan rubbed his face with his hands, images of Halbarad running through his mind. "Halbarad... he can't... he's not..."
"Eradan," Aragorn whispered.
"No! He isn't dead!" Eradan snapped. "He's not! He can't be! Don't say that he is!"
"But he -"
"Not now, Ada! When we get into Mordor we need a distraction. Just... something to get that eye pointed away from our path."
It was Aragorn who nodded, looking warily at Eradan as if the young man was going to snap. "You will have it. It will take a week's march to get there."
"That's fine. That will give us a few days to escape from Shelob's lair and find a good place to -"
"Did I just hear you say Shelob?"
Eradan stared at his father, a droplet of sweat trailing down his temple. He had held the scry longer than he should have. Yet he still nodded at his Ada. "It's the only way."
"It's too dangerous!"
"It's the safest way!" Eradan retorted.
"Facing a giant spider centuries old is not the -"
"Enough!" Mithrandir slammed his staff down, a bright light surrounded them. A yelp came from the elderly wizard's side of the connection and Eradan guessed he had woken up whoever it was that was asleep. "It is the only way, Aragorn. We will draw the eye's attention away from you, Eradan. We must cut the connection. Scrying is not a means for communication and drains us too much. Keep your strength. Be safe. All of you."
As the connection closed, Eradan nodded and Aragorn whispered, "Be well, my son."
"And you, Ada."
His father and Mithrandir disappeared from view leaving nothing but the water from the stream.
The mountain. The eye's focus no longer kept watch. Its attention was fixed on its gate, unaware that its doom was approaching.
Eradan, Frodo, Sam and Sméagol stood at the base of Mount Doom. The Istar looked at the three hobbits and smiled, "This is where you three must stay. It can become too dangerous in there as I doubt the ring will take kindly to being destroyed."
Sam crossed his arms, "No, Mr. Eradan, I refuse to stay behind. We've come this far to make sure that you aren't consumed by the ring like Mr. Bilbo. We came to see this through and see it through we will!"
Frodo nodded emphatically, though he didn't add anything. Sméagol was biting his lip and eyeing the pouch that held the ring.
Knowing that at least Sam and Frodo would follow him, he also knew that Sméagol could not or the old creature would once more be consumed by the ring's whispering. "Sméagol, I need you to do an important job for me."
Sméagol's gaze lifted from the pouch that Eradan held in his hand and latched onto the Istar's bright green eyes. "Sméagol will do as Master says."
"I need you to keep watch for me. I need to know if anyone or anything gets too close to this mountain. You need to be hidden somewhere so you don't get caught, but somewhere where you can call to us if there's danger. Once you see Frodo and Sam leave the mountain, you need to escape, ok?"
Sméagol nodded, but Frodo asked, "When he sees me and Sam? What about you?"
"Once I throw this in, you two will leave immediately as you see it leave its pouch. I need to stay and make sure that it actually comes to its demise before I leave that place. Understood?"
All three nodded and Eradan took a deep breath. "Then let us go."
Cruelty of Magic
He neither stepped out or left the little pond. The next time Eradan opened his eyes the water was gone and so was the strange landscape. Instead he was standing on a platform in Imladris, staring at a waterfall with droplets of water cascading down the rock face falling into an abyss.
The scenery looked real until Eradan looked down or up.
Above him, the colors of the sky were everchanging. There were the normal hues of blue, white, orange and red. But then there were greens and yellows and browns and purples. All of the colors were mingled and mixing, liking a mixing pot to create different shades for different moments.
Below him was only blackness. The water from the falls didn't create a splatting noise as if hitting the ground. Instead all the young man heard was the rush of the water falling... and falling... and falling.
The area was also too quiet. There wasn't the constant singing of elves or the rustling of leaves moving in the wind. There was only the sound of the waterfall.
"When you step out of your memory, this world takes you to where you felt the safest, most secure in your lifetime." Eradan jumped as Halbarad's words were spoken right behind him. "It's unsurprising you ended up here."
"Halbarad."
"What?" A large grin was on Halbarad's face when Eradan turned to look at his uncle. "I speak the truth, I swear."
"Of course you do." Eradan rolled his eyes and smiled at the ranger. Stepping forward, the younger man wrapped his arms around Halbarad. "It is truly amazing to see you again, Uncle Moony."
"Too soon," Halbarad murmured. "I wish you had more time with the living and all you knew."
"Well, I will eventually see them again." The Istar stepped back and he leaned against a railing. However, the smile that Eradan held slowly slipped away when he saw Halbarad's frown. "I will, won't I?"
Halbarad growled and Eradan soon found himself on a mountain top, in a small village. "You know how you came here."
"Yes, I'm from a different world as... Surely not." Green eyes widened as he took a step back. "No. It can't!"
"I'm sorry."
"But... but..."
Halbarad turned his head away, his eyes closing, "You also will have no recollection of any of us."
"I... I won't remember you, Ada, Adate, or Ammë?"
"No."
"Will I see you once I die there? Will I come back home?"
The older ranger sighed, sitting down on the hard earth as he ran his fingers through his hair. He raised his eyes to meet Eradan's as he shook his head. "You will not. You were brought here - accidentally or otherwise I don't know - and do not belong here."
Eradan took a step back, a pang in his heart. "Uncle..."
"You will always belong and hold our hearts, Eradan." The ranger's eyes hardened in his sincerity, Eradan never before seeing the man so serious. "You are not for this world, though. You were born in another with a family and have a different destiny than -"
"You are my family. You, Ada, Ammë and Adate. I don't need another one. Not one like this. I want ours."
Lowering his head, Halbarad nodded, "I wish it was different. We have no choice."
"What?" Eradan sank to the ground, his voice no more than a whisper. "I have no choice?"
"No."
"Why not?!" Gaining his wits back, Eradan leapt to his feet, his staff appearing in his hand as the world around them tumbled and changed until they were standing once more in the halls of Imladris. "I claim this as my home." Visions of his Ada, Adate and Ammë appeared besides a shocked Halbard. "I claim all of you as my home. I will not leave."
Wind whipped up and circled around Eradan, eyes blazing a vivid green. "I trained all my life for what? To be of the Eldar. The Dúnedain. The Edain. The Istari. I will not toss all of those years away because I was not born of this world."
Halbard grinned, but it seemed empty and devoid of emotion. "There is a way for you to keep your memories. But you still must go and defeat their dark lord, and you still will not be able to return."
"Do you want me to go?"
"No," the word was bitten harshly and Halbard had to bury his face in his hands. "I wish nothing more than for you stay."
"Then why must I go?"
"Magic," Halbard whispered brokenly. Eradan always knew that Halbarad had disliked magic the most out of everyone the young man had known, but he never had figured out why. "It always, always comes at a cost. It makes you say and do things you never wished to say or do."
Halbarad's hazel eyes looked upwards at Eradan, misted over with tears, but none fell. "Magic brought you here by accident, and magic will take you back to fix that mistake."
"There is nothing we can do?"
"No. Our time is coming to an end. And you must decide."
"Decide what?"
"Who keeps their memories."
Eradan recoiled, "What?"
Halbarad once again buried his head in his palms. "Depending on what you choose, it will change the course of our pasts."
"How do you know all this?"
The man laughed bitterly, "It's my duty. I know all of this so that you can make this choice. I will be cursed with this knowledge forever."
Eradan lowered himself to the ground, his anger dissipating into despair. "What if I make no choice?"
"It will decide for you."
"What are these two choices?"
Halbard straightened until his back looked rigid, staring at a point over Eradan's shoulder, "The first choice is we keep Eradan's memory with us and you become Harry. Everything will play out here and in the other world as it was supposed to.
"The second is that you take Eradan's memory from us and alter both worlds because the Harry magic had created wouldn't exist in the way that it had planned and the Dark Lord would already be defeated.
"Here it will be as if Eradan had never existed. I would have died that night we found you as a babe. Frodo would have carried the ring and almost lose himself to its influence. He would face more pain and confusion and turmoil than anyone should go through." The words seemed to be pulled from Halbarad, as if something was forcing the man to speak. His jaw worked as if he was trying to keep from continuing, but the the words were spat out, "Aragorn and Arwen would only be together after the war. They would only have secret meetings and Arwen would almost... die."
Eradan felt tears slip down his face as he shook his head. "I truly have no choice then. I wish nothing but to stay true to who I am, but I cannot condemn anyone to that existence. Ada needs you. I cannot convict Frodo to that life. I cannot cause Adate heartache. Ada and Ammë deserve to be together before the war comes." He grasped Halbarad's hands in his own, "Why must I go through this? Why me? Why?"
"Magic is a cruel being. It gave us you, and now forces you away."
"I lived this life with magic, for magic, why is it doing this to me?"
He didn't get an answer, instead he watched as Halbarad disappeared from view, tears spilling down the older man's face. The first and only time Eradan had ever seen him cry.
"Your decision."
Eradan stood, wiping at his own tear streaked face. "You know it."
A moment later he felt a tug and he went spiralling as he fell and fell and fell. He watched as his memories flew past him, in reverse. As soon as it flashed by, he wasn't able to recall it again. He felt his body shrink as his first memory flashed to mind: him sitting on his Ada's lap with his Ammë sitting beside them with his Adate reading to them while Uncle Moony lay sprawled on the floor, snores leaving his open mouth as he slept.
Green eyes widened, silver flecks circling his pupils. He spoke quickly under his breath, "You can have me, but do not take my memories. I have served you my life and I will continue to serve you, but please. Do not force me. Do not force them. I will go, I will destroy this dark lord, but make no one suffer as I will. Let me remember, let them remember. Please."
The only answer he got in return was silence. Silence, and his mind went completely blank before he went spiralling into darkness.
A/N So... does Eradan remember his memories when he wakes up? Will he learn of them at a later time due to certain circumstances? You'll have to wait to find out. :D Added later: I find it that I should point out that, yes, it would be pointless to continue this story if Eradan doesn't remember his memories... I was simply asking when he should remember, and how he comes to remember certain events in his past life. :)
Since I am going to finish writing this story before I post the rest, I would love ideas that you guys would like to see incorporated. :) I have some twists of my own, but it would be fun to add more. Also! It will help me come up with more ideas as I only have a vague idea of where I'm going with this. :)
One last thing. Do you guys like the length of the chapters? With multiple chapters in each one or do you want only one chapter at a time (meaning that the chapters will be much shorter)? Again, I'm going to write this all the way through before posting it because that way I have the ability to go back and change chapters if I need to. :)
Oh! And all information in that last part of A Dark Way I partly knew and the rest I got for the LOTR wiki (the part where Eradan speaks of Shelob). :)
Ok, I'm done with this long announcement.
Elven words:
Ammë - mother
Adate - grandfather (not cannon)
Ada - father
lonneg - son
Mithrandir - Gandalf