"Radagast is, of course, a worthy Wizard, a master of shapes and changes of hue; and he has much lore of herbs and beasts, and birds are especially his friends."

This isn't slash, more of a friendship fic. (But I suppose really militant Radagast/Gandalf fans, if there are any, could interpret it as such.) It only mentions Radagast a few times in the Lord of the Rings, but makes it known that he and Gandalf are allies. In this story, I set out to describe how Radagast, a hermit who values solitude over companionship, would handle having to see one of his fellow wizards leave.

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Gandalf had traveled to Rhosgobel in search of Radagast, and had finally arrived at the Gladden Fields by the Great River. He was near where he knew his friend fancied living; a secluded, heavily wooded area, miles away from any town or village. The sun hung low in the late afternoon sky, washing the face of the land before him in a beautiful orange and red hue.

He understood the brown robed wizards desire to be around the majesty of nature more than Man, but didn't always agree with it. Radagast had been around as long as he, and in all the centuries he had spent on Middle Earth he had long since forgotten his mission. Gandalf wondered if he even remembered what his mission was.

Ahead of him were the western eves of Mirkwood, and it was there that he would most likely be able to find Radagast. The War was over, the Ring was destroyed in the fiery depths of Mount Doom, and it was time for him to go back. He had completed what he had been sent back from the dead to complete, and now he was very tired. His bones ached, as well as his spirit, and he longed to rest. He hoped to find Radagast to say goodbye to one of the only Maiar to remain his faithful friend all these years.

Entering the edge of the forest, Gandalf was struck by how little light escaped through the canopy of oaks and beeches that formed a tight roof of branches over his head. Even though it was not yet night, it was dark enough for him to have to light his staff to show the way. Even though he had journeyed here many times, he could never quite get used to the feeling of being closed in and cut off from the rest of the world.

After about an hour of riding he suddenly noticed that the sounds of the forest he had been hearing, stopped. The birds stopped calling, he heard no footsteps of any fox or deer around the path, even the insects stopped chirping. And eerie silence fell over the forest around him, and Gandalf stopped in place, holding up his staff. The white light streaming from the top illuminated about a thirty-foot radius around him, revealing dark stumps and gnarled roots.

Suddenly, to his left, a glimmer like heat waves rippled across a nearby tree. When he turned to look, it was gone.

Then again, to his right, this time he caught a glance but it moved into the shadows too quickly.

The leaves adorning the trees started to rustle, but Gandalf felt no wind on his face.

He knew then, his friend was already here.

But why did he not come out to greet him?

Slowly, he realized; his old friend did not wish to say goodbye.

"I'm sure you heard, on the tongues of beast and bird alike, that I plan depart soon, Aiwendil." The two were alone, and with no influences or guises left, Gandalf thought it appropriate to call his old friend by his true name.

He paused for a moment, waiting for a response. The trees around him rustled their leaves again, though still no wind stirred. The old wizard took a deep breath and went on.

"My mission has been fulfilled, my friend. It has been deemed that I return from whence we came, the Undying Lands."

He paused again, politely.

"I hope that you will one day return to the world. You have shut yourself off for too long, Aiwendil. Your only friends have become those who only you can understand and speak to."

Taking off his wide brimmed hat of pure white, he set it on the ground by his feet.

"I know you have great power; you are a master of herbs and beast lore, and are an honorable and respectable wizard. That is why I would be proud if you would take up the position as head of the White Council."

A brown and gray-feathered owl flew down, landing on the ground about 10 feet from Gandalf. Looking straight into the owl's eyes, Gandalf said,

"Goodbye, my friend."

It wasn't until the light from Gandalf's staff had faded that, in the almost pitch darkness and stifling air of Mirkwood, the brown and gray owl took up the white hat in its beak and flew away.

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So, what did you think? Review? Also, if any knows of any other fanfictions that might take a stab at writing in Radagast, let me know!