A/N: The youngest son of Gerontius Took (more famously known as "The Old Took") was Isengar, who was said to have gone "out to sea" in his youth. And out in the middle of the ocean, the summit of Meneltarma ("Pillar of Heaven"), sacred to the Númenóreans, rose out of the sea after the drowning of Númenor in the Second Age. Many great mariners searched for the sacred summit, but none could find it. Enter, Isengar Took, who had "gone out to sea."
Please do note, this is not meant to be taken seriously; it was just a bit of information I found in the appendix of the Return of the King, and decided to transform into a short little narrative.
Disclaimer: I do, or ever will, own such Tolkien masterpieces as The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, or The Hobbit. Nor do I own even a leaf of paper he wrote on.
The sea was calm, the wind was good, and the sky was clear, but the small boat carrying Isengar Took across the seas was still far too slow. He'd been travelling in it for months, almost a year now, all the way down the Brandywine to the Gulf of Lune, where he had met very kind old chap named Círdan.
From there he and his homely little ship had been blown off course after passing a city named Dol Amroth, right into the mouth of the Anduin. And now, they were just moving out of range of the pirate infested waters of Umbar. Isengar and his ship had been many places since they had left the Great Smials, but they didn't fix the little fishing boat's low speed.
It was in fact, just a normal day at sea. Ever since they left the Anduin, the ship, ironically dubbed 'The Swift' by Isengar, had been having problems. Isengar did not know why he even bought it from that cheap Goodbody family, the ship should've have fallen apart and sunk months ago, but yet she still held up.
"Well, I suppose we shall have to desert the sails, won't we? They're looking a bit shabby. I should guess it's those pesky barnacles that chased us to –" he paused to check the map that a old man in Gondor had given him several weeks ago, "-ah, yes, it was that island, Tolfalas is its name I believe. That's what is slowing us down, if I should be asked. "
He moved one of his spare fishing rods out of the way, and picked up his only pair of oars. Slowly 'The Swift' picked up speed as the added force of the wind and Isengar's rowing pushed her on.
Now 'The Swift' wasn't a grand sight to see, she was built for Hobbit stature, so she was mighty undersized compared to any other fishing boat. Her sails and mast, which hadn't been in existence until they wandered up to Lindon, were short, and yet Isengar still had trouble reaching them. There would always be at least two fishing rods trailing behind her, waiting to snag a fish from the deep blue sea. Men would laugh at 'The Swift' and Elves would make a song of how a little Halfling tried to sail the ocean in a fishing boat, but for a Hobbit such as Isengar, the ship got the job done.
As noon came, the Sun reached the top of the sky, and her rays began to beat down on Isengar and 'The Swift.' Isengar stopped his rowing and stood up from his seat. To the north, there was nothing but the endless stretch of the sea, and the same went for the south and west. To the east he could discern a slight glimmer of land, perhaps a small island. But to the southwest, now there was something interesting.
There the ocean seem to grow deeper, but located in what seemed to be the middle of the great chasm, for that was the only explanation Isengar could think of for the immense area of sea that he was approaching, was an island. He shielded his eyes from the Sun's rays, and then he could more clearly see the speck of land. Yes, it was an island, though it looked more like the pinnacle of a great mountain. It was broad and flat, but nothing grew upon it except green grass and to Isengar's eyes, it looked as ancient as the world itself.
Something stirred inside Isengar, of all the places he had been on his journeys, this one spit of land in the middle of the Belegaer seemed the most peculiar. He picked up oars once more and began to row. 'The Swift' moved quickly over the expanse of ocean that separated Isengar and the island, going faster than she had in a fortnight. And as the ship glided over the water, Isengar fancied he could, at times, see a tall tower or two beneath the gentle waves.
As he and 'The Swift' drew nearer to the island, Isengar remembered some old tales that the wizard Gandalf had told at one of his father's birthday parties. Gandalf had told the little children, whom Isengar was when he heard of the story, of an ancient civilization of kings that roamed the seas of the world, thousands of years ago. He had said that they had lived on an island between the lands of Middle-earth and of Elvenhome, and when the kings and their people grew sinister and menacing, threatening the home of the Elves across the sea, their island sank under a great wave. Of course, everyone considered him stark raving mad, but now, Isengar thought there may be some truth to the old man's fairy tales.
'The Swift' drew up to the island, and Isengar laid down his oars. With care he jumped the slight gap between 'The Swift' and the land, and walked up onto to the island, the sacred summit of Meneltarma, the Pillar of Heaven.
It seemed to Isengar that some spell had been laid upon the island, for a soon as he set foot on it, he could not seem to speak, even if he wanted to. He held the island in awe, for though to any ordinary man it would look like a miserable island, it seemed holy and untouched. Indeed, at the moment when Isengar walked up Meneltarma, no mortal or Elf had seen or walked upon it for more than a thousand years.
Isengar looked all around him, and he felt he could see all around him, with better eyesight than many mortals, rivaling even the Dúnedain. And as Isengar stood at the summit of the Pillar of Heaven he thought, "I suppose all should consider me stark raving mad as well when I come home and tell them my own tale."
A/N: Isengar does eventually make it back to the Shire, his date of death is recorded in the Took family tree, but once he returned he probably would have been an embarrassment and outcast to his family, much like Bilbo when he returned from adventures.
Reviews would be nice, constructive criticism would be even better, but all flames will be donated to the nearest Balrog Rehabilitation Center.
