Liberties have been exerciseD in the creation of this story. Elements of existing canons (books, movies, etc.) have been taken into account.
In memory of those whom I love,
who have now gone to the West.
...The night will not wait for day
The guiding sun cannot always stay
The deeper parts where darkness thrives,
The inner corners where the shadow dives
Snuff out the life that is swathed in river
Drag her into the cool of the water
Drag her…
Drag her deep…
Into the water…
Where darkness thrives…
~~~HABREN THE IGNITER~~~
The monotonous, thundering gallops of a stallion were muted by the rushing green fields, steps never ceasing and ever going. Upon the steed sat an aged man older than what one may at first perceive. Garbed in a humble robe of grey and a pointed blue hat of that of a wizard sat on his long grey hair. He was Gandalf the Grey, Mithrandir to the Elves, Tharkun to the Dwarves and Olorin in his youth. In his blue eyes rested still a wisdom cultured by the many ages.
Having finished visiting his dear old hobbit friend Bilbo, now very much far away from the Shire, the wandering wizard had departed with set destinations in mind, to where he would plan to tread to no one really knew. But much to his surprise, his laid out intentions had to be halted for a while.
The hooves of his horse had stopped by his command and he quickly dismounted. Something, he sensed, what not right with the river. The Anduin seemed restless, waves constantly overlapping and shifting like hands transferring the weight of cargo to the next person. His bushy eyebrows furrowed. "What makes the Anduin restless so?" He questions to himself.
And lo and behold Gandalf made out a figure floating in the distance through his still furrowed brows. The figure was an elf, a teen in their own terms, drifting away as if left for dead. Alarmed, the grey wizard waded into the water in his haste, breaking the connection she had to the continuous current as he buffered her with the length of his staff and treaded for the shore. He grew more alarmed when he saw the familiar features on her face.
"Habren!"
Then her eyes shot wide open like waking from a fear; a fear that only the darkest nightmares can etch. The elleth leaped away from the wizard, grasping desperately for a sword that wasn't there, unable to tell friend from foe. Her soaked self gleamed a faint liquid gold in the sunlight, ebony black hair glued and framing her face in a tangled mishap, warm brown eyes gone cold and wild. The river raged on.
She spoke in a sharp Sindarin, "Away spawn of Mordor!"
Mordor. The name of the damned land sent a sharp chill across Gandalf's spine and the blood underneath the skin on his aged face drained swift. "Make no such direct mention of that place while this land still knows an ounce of peace!" But like thunder, the anger came –and went. His expression shifted slowly into concern and confusion –confusion to what has driven this elf girl mad. His words smoothed calmly towards her. "Be at peace, Habren, and tell me what has happened."
Suddenly it had dawned on the elf that the bearded old man before her would do her no harm. "Mithrandir," The color in her eyes grew warmer and less animal-like as tense shoulders descended a level and relaxed, only to have them rise up again as she wrapped her freezing arms around herself, shaking like a leaf in a rainstorm. Her knees buckled and she knelt hard onto the riverbank, a few stray sediments scraping at her knees. No wails came from her voice, only the occasional gasps for air that came from crying born of a memory too painful to be heard from.
The grey wizard rushed to her side, placing a supportive hand on the presently fragile elleth. He gave her words of comfort as he waited for her to fill her own cup of tears, feeling the dampness find his robes. When he felt the barricading tension had passed away he released her and asked softly, "Habren, you need to tell me everything. Why did you mention that place?"
The elf, Habren, looked at the wizard with eyes looking as dead as the river behind them, because for the passing time, nothing dared to move in the Anduin. The words barely escaped her lips.
"I've just been there."
A dark cloud of foreboding crept over the wizard. "What brought you there?"
"We were made aware that a powerful ally is starting to find the side of Sauron much more favorable, so our people sent a small team to infiltrate the Black Land. It was a risky task, but we needed to know who among our allies are still trustworthy, with the growing threat of darkness closing in on our heels. Long story short… I was the only one who made it." Habren then stood up from where she was and wandered further onto the edge of the riverbank, gazing at the still waters. Gandalf could not read her face. "We were only two. Just me and Gilras."
Gandalf felt his heart fall heavy, knowing very much who the ellon was, unable to say anything but, "Eru above."
"What's more?" the elleth continued. "My mother followed us. And now she's dead! They're both dead!"
The wizard did not falter from where he stood. When the silence that followed could not be tolerated any longer he stepped forward. "Let us find your father—"
"No!" She immediately hollered, turning sharply towards his direction. "I dare not face my father, after all I have failed to do."
Gandalf sighed, brooding on how difficult the elleth was being. "It seems I cannot deter your decision as of the moment. Well, I certainly cannot leave you here to your own devices. It would be best if you journey with me. Though I cannot guarantee that we would not run into your father."
Habren gave the wizard a contemplating look, though Gandalf doubted she was thinking about his offer. But nonetheless she nodded to him with a sad yet thankful face, "Hannon le,"
Gandalf softly smiled. "I will give you a moment to yourself. Find me when you are ready and I shall tell you where we are going. You will need to tell me more of your account in detail as well."
The elleth turned her back on the wizard and faced the river yet again, the current finally starting to pick up.