Disclaimer: I do not own.
Author's Note: Something a little different – experimenting with a new style, different tones for these drabbly-styled one shots.
There were five of them once.
Six, some would whisper, those who could remember that far. But one followed Melkor-Morgoth and went too far to turn back. So five remained, the five Maiar sent to Arda.
He misses them. Radagast remembers his brothers with fondness, of the days before the arrival, the times they spent together after. But he is alone now and tends to his birds and converses with the trees and the deer and the fox. He is happy to see the trees return to themselves and the shadows fading away – it is good in his world. The animals are approaching the sun again and forsaking their nests and dens for fresh air.
Radagast burns with anger deep down still for his foolishness. These are his children and he is their guardian. He will remember how easily he was betrayed by the blank white lie and will be on his guard if it dares happen again. He will never forgive himself for being so foolish and easily blind sided.
He wonders about what will happen to white-to-dead rainbow. Too much, too fast; didn't think to plant an antidote next to his hemlock trees. The brown wizard shakes his head. He feels sorry for white-that-is-lost and wonders if perhaps this new black sheep will dye his wool another colour and sneak back into the flock. He is mildly worried about the deceit that is so easily wielded by the lost white but Radagast knows that it's easier to deal with an enemy when you can see it coming a mile off.
Radagast remembers wise grey. Grey who meddles because he cares. Too much, perhaps; gruffly wearing his heart on his sleeve. Brown doesn't hold it against weathered grey and feels angry when he hears about the bitter rumors the humans speak of his beloved cousin's travels. He hopes that grey-to-white will be happier then before and trusted once more in the world of men. Hopefully one day he will remember the long walks in the forest with Radagst when they spoke of secret things, things that white-that-was would never understand.
He thinks sometimes, especially when the sky is a certain shade of blue, that he is the only one who remembers the twins. They have been gone for so long that Radagast has forgotten their faces and can barely remember the sound of their voices. While the animals keep watch for him, brown has never discovered what happened to the blues and weeps for them when the sky is bright like their laughter. It isn't right to forget the blues-that-were so faithful brown will keeping listening.
Radagast worries sometimes that he is too isolated and out of touch. He and grey-that-is-white no longer walk together as often as they used to. And white-that-was did not actually care for brown, seeing it as a pawn in the larger game. But brown is a sturdy colour, resistant to fading. He will wait as patiently as he can for the new colours to arrive; new colours for a new world.
A rainbow is made out of many colours.
Radagast is running out of individual hues.