A/N When I read The Fellowship of the Rings I thought the part where they found the stone that Gandalf had supposedly written on, along with other's tracks. I thought I'd expand upon the idea so that it wasn't Gandalf that left the stone. Anyhow, I used the more elvish terms because frankly I like them. And in case you're wondering when you break up Galadhmar his name is Tree Dwelling in Sindarin…I just thought you'd like to know. ^_^ I hope you enjoy the story, however keep in mind it was quite late when I wrote this so forgive errors or badness of the story :D I'd love to know what's good/bad/needs fixing and such. Many thanks!
-Celtica
Disclaimer: I do not own the LOTR trilogy, nor do I own Old Road, Amûn Sul, Weathertop, Nazguls/ringwraiths or Bree. I do however own Galadhmar and parts of his adventures. I think. In other words I'm not taking credit for Tolkien's work.
The old hermit made his way up Old Road to Amûn Sul, Weathertop, an old hill a six days walk from Bree, the nearest town. But, that didn't matter much to Galadhmar, who enjoyed getting away, he was after all somewhat of a hermit. He made the journey to Amûn Sul often, knowing much about the history of the watchtower at Weathertop's top, now reduced to a crumbling circle of stone.
The wind blew at Galadhmar's face sending wisps of gray hair fight one another around his wrinkled face. As he came up the steep path his green eyes twinkled as he saw the ruins. Every time he walked up it was as if Galadhmar had never seen Weathertop's ruins before. As if the ruins were brand new to his eyes, and upon searching there always was some small detail that he hadn't seen.
The day he started out for his journey Bree was a-buzz with rumors of the Riders, the Nazguls, being seen in Bree's area. Even with this warning Galadhmar left, nothing could keep him away from his beloved Weathertop. So he had left bringing two weeks food assuming he, as always would sleep in the ruins for two nights.
Galadhmar reached the top of the hill, setting up amp in his favorite spot, a place where a small stone platform jutted out from the walls, providing shelter from the rain despite its crumbled stones.
He explored the ruins the rest of the remaining day, stopping intermittently to look out at the view from the top of Amûn Sul. When night fell he created a fire, to eat by humming to himself old songs he memorized which taught the history of the Weathertop ruins. When he was finished he slept, letting the fire burn itself out.
Galadhmar awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of a horse's breathing. He looked up into a faceless black hood that he could barely see due to darkness. But, before he could do anything he felt a pain in his leg and fell unconscious.
When he awoke, pain throbbed throughout his leg, icy and cold. He had never seen a Nazgul before, but from the descriptions he had heard that must have been what he encountered during the night. Galadhmar felt he was lucky, to survive the encounter this far. However, he knew that he must somehow get back to Bree, or perhaps meet a passer-by. Usually travelers would have healing herbs, and he had been stupid enough to overlook them. Despite how much the wound pained him, the cut was no bigger than a pebble and no more deep than how tall his middle knuckle was. But, he felt another spell of sleepiness and gave in knowing that rest would heal his wounds well.
When he woke up again the pain was worse, it felt as if it had spread, but that seemed so odd. The iciness had engulfed both his legs and he felt as if he couldn't stand, and found he couldn't. So Galadhmar decided to drag himself over to his bag of food. The bag looked like it had hosted a small group of animals due to the various holes that leaked food. He picked out some of the untouched food and cooked it over a fire made with the remaining tinder.
He wondered why the Nazgul had found him in the first place, and why there was just one. It hit him, that perhaps the smell of smoke from his fire had attracted the Nazgul, since ringwraiths could not see. But still it didn't answer why exactly there was just one. He shrugged it off and ate some more. Which seemed to relieve some of the pain.
For the next few days he slipped in and out of consciousness, as the iciness spread throughout his body. It had been five days since he had been wounded, and he had found no one. He did not expect anyone to come, truly he realized. But, Galadhmar had hoped that some other ranger who shared his love for Amûn Sul would come and find him. But no such luck. In between consciousness he found a piece of stone. Painfully grabbing his knife he hastily etched his gravestone. The elvish rune "G" and "3" His first initial, and the date of when he thought he would die. October the third.
Galadhmar's last period of consciousness he prayed, in his mind for he was fully paralyzed. And died thereafter, of the Nazgul's poison, turning Galadhmar's body into a powder, blown away by the wind. Leaving only his hastily carved tombstone left to be found by the next visitor to Amûn Sul.