The Wizard and the Alchemist

Author's Notes: I do not own Lord of the Rings or anything like it. This is the tale of Avdei, a 17th-century Russian apprenticed to an alchemist. When his master successfully synthesizes the legendary philosopher's stone, Avdei finds himself navigating the insular world of Orthanc, trying desperately to save his own neck. When I have put this muse to rest, I shall be returning to canon-friendly work.

Chapter One: The Tower

"Urgh."
Avdei sat, stretching the muscles in his back. The floor was hard for all its warmth. Slowly, he opened his eyes, careful to not seem too alert. He had no desire to be set to work so soon.
"Мой Бог," he whispered, slumping into the shade of the pillar. He realized now that it was curved. "My God. "
He cradled his head in his hands, elbows propped against his knees. Desperately, he pressed his temples, willing the image to disappear. Every louse he mashed and wiped against his breeches did nothing to change the scene before him though. Still the grey lines of tile strung away from him, running smoothly towards that sunburst center. He stroked one thoughtfully, wondering at the lack of grout. Whatever mortar had been used had not escaped between the cracks. Even the black stone was flawless.
He had an idea.

Spires identical to his own rose up around the roof, one at every cardinal point. Crawling forward, too scared to stand now that he had seen the descent, he inched towards the center of the plane.
The middle of the tower was arranged like a star. The four points jutted towards the looming teeth that framed this height with four smaller diamonds angled between them. Every line was perfect, each length identical. Avdei had no trouble recognizing the symbol of an alchemist. No other would bother with such precision.
He positioned himself at the focus, hands clapped together in prayer. He waited, forcing his body to be still.
Nothing happened.
Deliberately, he turned five times, careful to stay upon the midpoint. Failure caught within his throat.
Forcing back a sob, he lowered himself to his knees.
"Возьмите меня!" he shouted to the sky. "Take me!"
He turned himself upon his back, hands balled as fists across two of the longer points.
"Release me!" he tried again. "Освободите меня!"
"Я заказываю мой выпуск!" His voice cracked with those final words. "I order my release!" Still the symbols would not obey. He curled his toes, willing for some tingling, some other-worldly sensation to tell him his demands would work.
Nothing happened.
And immortality fails, spoke the crueler voice within his head. и бессмертие терпит неудачу.

Avdei sat, his legs drooping down the sheer side of the tower. He wiped his face with one sleeve, feeling the rough fabric against his cheek. He knew from their itchiness that his eyes retained their redness.
All around him, the star's repeated symbol cut into the paths within the gardens. He had studied the scene for hours now and could see no way of escape. Beyond the manicured lawns, a white wall rose imposingly. In one corner, he had thought he could see shops or mayhap houses cut into this additional fortification.
A gust of wind caught his back, making ripples of the folds in his shirt. He sighed, lamenting the growing chill. The noise was accompanied by a creaking scrape of stone. Alarmed, he turned around, expecting to find this vision crumbling around him. Instead, a small boy stood there, a door closing against the farthest column. He wore wooden clogs like most his age, and with a tunic that seemed uniform belted to his chest. He stared incredulously.
Avdei scrambled to his feet, running towards this one chance at human contact. The boy stayed rooted to his spot, blond hair tumbling around his face.
"Are you a wight?" he asked, almost whispering. Avdei grabbed him by the shoulders.
"No," he answered automatically, not bothering to be offended. "I am true flesh. What is this place?"
"I-Isen," said the boy, twisting from the elder's grip. "Isengard. Orthanc!" He seemed slightly panicked, and Avdei could not blame him. He backed away, flattening his hair and trying to seem less menacing. He took a deep breath.
"I am sorry," he began again. "I am Avdei."
The boy's hands curled into fists, remembering bravery now that he faced no immediate threat.
"Lut," said the houseboy, planting hands upon his hips. His lip curled defiantly. "This is mine."
"Your master will scold you if you play too much," Avdei guessed playfully, hoping he sounded authoritative.
"The Wizard will cut your hands off if you touch me," Lut retorted, ignoring this argument. He clutched a leather ball tightly, eyes darting towards the pillar emblazoned with the image of many stars.
Avdei recoiled in shock, but fought the urge to laugh. The wind buffeted his balance precariously. Consciously, he braced his knees upon the walkway. He started to walk forward.
"A wizard," he said, grasping for anything he could use. "A wizard would want to see me."
The boy cocked his head, studying him briefly.
"You stink," said the boy.
Obligingly, Avdei held a sleeve up to his nose. The cuff was burnt and crusty. He sniffed. "Thiols," was his explanation.
"Why'ed the Wizard wan' to see you?" asked Lut, not one to be discouraged.
"Because I'm magical," Avdei replied, twirling his sleeves artistically. "I flew to this roof all by myself."
Lut snorted.
"You can'en fly!" he scoffed. "People can'en fly. Not even Elves be 'aving wings."
"Then how'ed I get here?" asked Avdei, mimicking the boy's speech. He smiled conspiringly and took a step forward.
"I- I den know!" shouted back Lut. He looked scared.
"I am an alchemist," said Avdei soothingly. "I know many secrets. Surely your master would not want such knowledge to go to waste."
Lut's lip quivered.
"It would be good of you to take me to him," Avdei prodded.
"I den know," wavered Lut.
"There is no need," intoned a velvet voice.
Lut ran.