(AN: Wow! Just the first chapter and already there's feedback!)
(I've heard many stories about what may have happened to the Blue Wizards. Obviously, since I'm of the mind that every perspective, however skewed or unpopular, has some basis in truth, it won't be my duty to 'down' any particular hypothesis. In fact, all things considered, mine is the product of combining several of those premises into one cohesive story. So yeah, you'll definitely enjoy this [I hope].)
(And we get to see Easterling culture like never before! So that's always fun!)
Arrival
1050 T.A.
The lands east of the Anduin River, south of Greenwood, now called Mirkwood, and north of the Dagorlad had once been part of Greenwood. A broad and beautiful country it was, full of plenty and beauty. The Ent-wives lived here, but where they departed to once the War of Sauron and the Elves began, none of the Eldar knew.
"We need new names." the tallest of the two elders, Alatar, said to his fellow.
"Hmm?" Pallando asked.
"For ourselves, in the places where we must go," Alatar replied. "They must not know that the Valar have sent us, not unless it is absolutely necessary."
"I see."
They walked on in silence through the Brown Lands, their old, tree-root gnarled hands clutching the wood of their staves.
"What was that name that delightful young Elf-maid called me?" the broad-shouldered Pallando asked. "Remember, after we left Imladris?"
"I believe it was 'Romenasto'. It means 'Helper of the East.'"
"I know not how we would be helping them," Pallando mused. "At least, by keeping them alive and out of the slavery of a dead god. Still, I think I shall call myself that name. And what about you?"
"I have thought of 'Morinehtar'."
"Oh! That is a dark name."
"Ever has the Enemy claimed lordship over the lands of the East. If we are to indeed combat him, albeit not openly, I must choose a name that will depict my purpose, the same with you."
Pallando, the newly named 'Romenasto', grunted.
"Whatever happens, though," 'Morinehtar' stated. "We must not mention the name of Gondor."
"Why not?"
"Before we left, Lord Elrond told me somewhat of the political climate of the West. Arnor is divided and though Gondor is greater now than in the days of Anarion, they have been at constant war with the Easterlings. And it is into their land that we must go."
They paused for a brief period. Behind them in the west stretched the far Brown Lands. To the north was the shadow of Mirkwood: it was not always dark and terrifying. To the south lay the mountains of Mordor, a pale gray without the shadow of their once-master. Before them opened the lands of the East.
They took one more step and passed beyond the reckoning of the West.
Ando'khin stood in the fields, wiping the sweat off his brow. Out here in the plains, there was little to guard him from the heat of the sun. All the mountains were on the western shore of the Andu'gaer, the West Sea. All the trees were on the eastern shore, sheltering the port-city of Ghari'khor. This far in the south-west, the heat would become rather unbearable, especially with no shade whatsoever.
But the farming needed to be done. Ghari'khor and the outlying villages and towns-folk could not survive on imported fish. It was the main source of income for the city, but fish were not as reliable as the crops. Though they did not bring in much, especially in the cities farther east, the grain that was harvested here meant a lot to the farmers, especially to Ando'khin.
As he stood there, wiping the sweat from off his brow, he saw a very strange sight. Two very tall old men, clad in blue with staves in their hands, were walking along the lane outside his field. They were rather outlandish, to be certain. Nobody in the village of Ghari'ban wore blue, or could boast of having passed the count of fifty years. And they were tall, much taller than the average villager. Their skin, also, was fair: resembling almost the rumors. Even as a child, this far away from the Capital City of Rhun, Ando'khin's parents told him the tales of the evil white giants of the West. He heard rumors of the giants on the move, winning big battles against the Empire of Rhun. He feared that he might see war soon in the land of his fathers.
A thought crossed his mind to call the town-guards.
"Hail, good fellow!" the taller of the old men greeted, speaking in Westron. So they are from the West, Ando'khin thought.
"Good morning," Ando'khin returned. And he meant it. Though the sun was high in the sky and hot upon the brow, the breeze from the distant sea brought with it a bit of cool that made even the hottest heat bearable.
"What precisely do you mean by that?" the broader one asked. "Do you wish us a good morning, or is this a morning to be good upon? Or do you feel good this morning, or is it good whether we want it to be or no?"
"I don't know what you mean, sirs," Ando'khin replied. "I'm just a farmer, and not very good at riddles." He went back to his hoe, then looked up and saw that the two strangers were still standing there.
"May I ask what you are doing here?"
"We're traveling east," the tall one said.
"Travelers?" Ando'khin asked, with a snort. "There are no travelers here, only the white giants of the West. I believe you might be one of them. You know, I should call the town-guards."
"Please, good sir," the broad one said. "We mean you no harm. We come in peace, we're only passing through."
"Is that so?" Ando'khin asked. "Well, peaceable or no, you're outlandish folk. We don't get many outlandish folk here in Ghari'ban. You'll be the talk of the town within a day if you pass through, wearing those clothes."
"These are the clothes of our office," the tall one stated.
"Officers, you are? And whom do you serve?"
"We're travelers, not errand-boys." the broad one returned.
"How far have you come today?"
"From the West."
At this, Ando'khin looked rather suspiciously at them.
"I wouldn't be saying that out loud, if I were you." he said. Taking a look here and there, he then motioned towards the house that sat on the edge of the field. "Come to my house for a while."
"But we are strangers to you, and you to us!" the tall one said.
"Still," Ando'khin said. "I can't have your blood on my hands for your crass ignorance!"
The old men exchanged glances with each other, shrugged, then followed after Ando'khin to his house.
(AN: So far so good, eh?)
(This is just the tip of the Rhunic iceberg. This village featured here, Ghari'ban, is a little village lying within the protectorate of Ghari'khor, a larger fishing town on the edge of the Sea of Rhun. To the speakers of Elvish [Sindarin and Quenya] it is the Sea of Rhun, but to the Easterlings, it would be, in Sindarin, at least, Andu'gaer - the West Sea, for it lies on the western border of their land.)
(As far as names go, you can see that I'm setting up something of a pattern. Following other Eastern traditions, the surname, 'Ando' [strong], comes first, with the given name '-khin' [friend] coming second. The same concept works with the cities, to a degree. The name of the region [Ghari, which means 'west' in Rhunic - a language I'm creating, since Tolkien never made it], with the name of the kind of town [-bor], city [-khor] or village [-ban] coming after it.)
(This all will be important, as with Tolkien's names and words in his story. Though I doubt I could go into the cathartic amount of depth that he did with his languages. I'll try to flesh it out a little.)
(Next chapter will have some very important information about Rhun and Rhunic culture, so don't go anywhere!)
