Unimpossible
Disclaimer: The characters, events, places and all that jazz of this book are based off of those of Mr. John Ronald Reuel Tolkien who is, by the by, their "creator," for the most part, and not to mention really, really cool. That's all.
Book One-Many Miles Be Still to Go
Chapter One: A Construction of Many
Mr. Charon Brook was considered by many to be a rather odd sort of character. He was now in his early tweens, a stage that was agreed upon by any hobbit parent to be a most difficult time indeed. Yet the sweetest creature he was. He was about two and a half feet tall and not done growing. The hair on his head was dark and rather curly. His eyes were the color of the faraway sea, and full of life.
He often kept to himself, wandering about in the fields, skipping stones in the stream, humming often. One could usually find him a few fathoms away from his home of Hobbiton under a particularly large sycamore tree reading a new novel. Reading was what he loved to do whenever he could. Yet this practice was not truly approved. Many thought he was going to get ideas.
Char, as he was called, did not live with family, like every other young hobbit did, of any kind. Both of his parents had died long ago leaving him off on his own. No, in his home of Bag End dwelt with him not even another hobbit! He lived with an elf. Gwendever was her name. She came from far off Lothlórien and she was, perhaps, the queerest of all in the Shire.
Yet all these things amounted together did not explain why Master Char was thought odd. It was because of the simple matter that he wore shoes.
"Shoes I say! I'd never seen anything like it before!" these were the words of Lendon Sackville-Baggins to his crowd at The Ivy Bush, their local tavern.
"Now what would he be doing that for?" questioned a Ms. Brandybuck who was visiting Hobbiton.
"It can mean only one thing," Mr. Lendon replied, shaking his forefinger menacingly. "His feet ain't tough!"
There was a murmur throughout the crowd. His feet not tough? How could this be? Every hobbit in Shire history was two to four feet tall, had points on the sides of their ears and, most importantly, had tough, fur-covered feet. Every single one! That was why there was never much of a shoe buisness in the Shire. There was no need for one! Yet could this Brook be like this?
***
The morning dawned bright and cool. Char opened his eyes to the warm light that was beaming through his window. Lying on his chest quite comfortably was a small, black creature. His eyes were like violets in the spring. The wings on his back were a silver colour. Char smiled at him.
"I hate to be rude, Lymric," he said. "But I do need to get up.'
Lymric jumped off of the bed as Char got up.
As he wandered into the sunlit kitchen with Lymric poised on his shoulder, he was greeted by the sight of Gwen. Her skin was the fair color of a rose. Her eyes, a consuming blue. Her long, golden locks hung down past her waist and appeared crimped. Her figure was tall and slender. Fair was she to look upon in her white gown!
"Good morning Char." Her soft, melodious voice floated toward him as if he was in a dream.
He grinned in an odd manner. "I'll never understand how you can always seem so new to me when I've spent most of my life with you."
She smiled. "Perhaps it is more proper to relearn things that are old to you."
Char laughed. "Perhaps indeed! But come! If we are to relearn such things, then does that not mean we are quick to forget?"
"That is possible," she replied. "But it is also possible that the lesson needs relearning."
Char laughed even more. "Oh, Gwen. If it wasn't for you I'd most likely loose my head!"
"Loose it if you must," she answered. "But at least eat before you do!"
Char was quite comprible to her request and proceeded in eating his breakfast while Lymric lapped up his milk.
The sun was now risen when he was walking down the steps of Bag End a bit later. The grass was scattered with droplets of dew and the stone walk was slightly damp. The whole world seemed fresh and clean as if the dew had washed every fear and worry away.
There was a hint of summer in the air. It felt warmer and less gloomy. Yet spring was still there. The trees were in blossom and looking their best. There was a gentle breeze floating through the air. This was one of those mornings when one is glad to be alive.
Char took a deep breath, taking in the glorious atmosphere. He then proceeded down the path with Lymric on his tail. At the end of the walkway, they jumped over the fence, ran across the road and into the grass.
"Char!" He turned. Gwen was calling. "Will you please get some flour from the pantry for me while you're running about?"
"All right." He waved to her then set out once again.
***
The center of Hobbiton was quite busy this time of day. Even though the morning was still fairly young, many of the inhabitants wanted to get their items early so that they could be used that day. There were men bickering about the new decisions of Michel Delving. Children were running and laughing. Women were buying wool.
This was the only place in all of Hobbiton where any "business" was conducted. The long street was lined with small shops: fabric material, a butcher shop, a pantry where grains were sold, a quaint grocery, and an even smaller furniture store. Here and there were tucked the occasional food stand. At the end of this street stood "The Ivy Bush," the only store that made any profit to speak of. At that very moment there were hobbits coming in and out, some looking slightly tipsy. It was a very cheery place, the high street was.
Char and Lymric wandered into the pantry to get Gwen's flour. The clerk seemed quite short with Char and so they left as quickly as they could. It wasn't until they were going up the high street, heading towards Bag End, that he found out why.
"Charon!" A voice yelled, "Charon Brook!"
He turned around. Running toward him at a reasonable pace was a young hobbit. Mossy brown hair covered his head. His eyes were like dark chocolate. His nose was flecked with freckles. He looked several years younger than Char in his short breeches and baggy shirt.
"Are you Charon Brook?" he questioned.
"Some call me that." Char replied.
"My father is Lendon Sackville-Baggins."
"My compliments." Char turned to leave. His interrogator continued to follow.
"My father says that hobbits don't wear shoes!"
"I have met many hobbits who didn't. Your father is quite observant."
"But you do!"
"It seems you share his qualities."
"Why?"
"Why not?"
"Well, Father says that… that you don't have furred feet!"
The crowd grew suddenly quiet. Many turned towards them. Some were whispering.
"You're quite a powerful speaker, sir." Char said after a time. "I'm surprised your father hasn't tried to get you a position."
"But is it true?" he pressed. "Are your feet bare?"
Char picked his words with care. "Sir, if you wish to get somewhere with your speeches than perhaps you should go to Michel Delving. But heed my warning! Speak not what the people wish not to hear! Disturb not their peace. Good day."
He turned again from the boy and walked to Bag End.
Chapter Two: Of No Importance
It had been nearly an hour since he had dropped off back at Bag End. But the words of the hobbit were dwindling in his mind. Such words were far from unprecedented. Many had often questioned his oddities, though not directly. He had more felt than heard them.
Why was he so different? No hobbit in Shire history was like him. Not even the legendary Bilbo Baggins who had disappeared on his hundred and eleventh birthday, never to be heard from again! At least he had been only odd in mind, not appearance.
Char came to a tree growing near the creek bed. It's limbs were somewhat high, but it had knotholes in which a hobbit foot or hand could fit quite nicely. He began to climb up the strong bark until he came to a comfortable spot where he could sit. Lymric followed easily, almost magically, showing up on the same branch in no time.
Char took no notice of his friend. He sat, looking towards the horizon, puzzling over the conflicts in his mind. He wasn't sure how long he sat in that tree. It was no matter to him and he had no desire to leave its strong boughs.
"Hello up there!"
Char almost fell out of his perch as well as his thoughts. He turned and looked down. On the ground was a small figure, another hobbit by the looks of his attire and apparent height.
"What are you doing up there?"
"Why does it matter?" Char was not one to be disagreeable but he was not particularly fond of having his thoughts interrupted.
"I've just never seen a hobbit up in a tree alone before," he replied. "Not one this large at least."
"What's it to you?"
"I'm just curious."
"I climbed up here out of my own free will."
"And why is that?"
"I like trees."
"As do I, for fruit and to look at but not to climb."
"That's very informative." Char leaned back to show that he was through with this particular conversation. But the other was not so hasty, or he didn't care.
"My question still remains." He said.
"As does my answer."
"Listen," he replied. "Why don't you just come out of your tree so we can converse like civilized beings? Is that too much to ask?"
Char puzzled for a moment. Then he decided to agree. He looked over the edge. The ground was only a few feet down, maybe five. He slung his legs around and jumped, landing catlike on the ground.
"Now," the stranger smiled. "That wasn't so terrible, was it?"
"What is it you wish to speak of?" Char asked.
The hobbit considered him. Looking at him with slight curiosity he smiled. "Many things."
Now that he was on the ground, Char realized that there was quite a resemblance between these two. This stranger was taller and obviously older than him, but his hair was also dark and curly. And his eyes also were a lovely shade of blue and held the same laughter and life.
Somehow, Char felt reminded of something long forgotten. He felt as if he had known this person before. As if this was someone he had known a long time ago. An old friend from when he was a child.
"You remind me of someone I used to know." Char said hesitantly.
"Well, anything is possible." The stranger replied.
Char was puzzled by this last remark. What did he mean, "anything is possible"? How could he know someone whom he had never met?
"Who are you?" Char asked.
"I am called 'Colindo.'" he replied.
"That's Elvish!"
"Yes it is."
Char thought for a moment. "I have never heard of that word though. Or I can't remember it."
"Are you learned in the words of the Elves?"
"Yes, Gwen taught me, I think."
"Who is Gwen? Your mother, no?"
"No, my guardian."
"A hobbit that can teach Quenya?"
"No. She herself is a fair one. It is her native language."
"How extraordinary." They stood in silence for a while, pondering over each other. Colindo was smiling at Char. Char was just puzzled, and most likely looked it. There seemed to be a light about this hobbit's face, an ancient and unsurpassed wisdom of good and evil, the likes of which had never been seen before. He seemed to be of some elder race that had diminished with the coming of the second darkness, preserved in this single soul.
"Who are you?" Char asked.
"Is your memory so lacking?" Colindo replied.
"No."
"Then you already know."
"Not your name. Your… your background, I guess."
The hobbit smiled. "Do you realize, young one, that it is often good form to introduce oneself before pressing matters of little importance?"
"Fine then. My name is Charon. Charon Brook of Hobbiton. Is that enough?"
"Yes." There was a pause. Lymric mewed. The two hobbits looked down at him.
"Lymric!" Char exclaimed, picking up his friend. "I had forgotten all about you!"
"So it appears." Colindo said. "He seems to have noticed. An extraordinary animal. Very catlike."
This was most entirely true. Not only was he acting like a cat, Lymric looked like a cat. A winged cat.
"Come friends," Colindo said. "She is climbing towards noon and I believe you two could use some food." He turned and began to walk north.
"Wait!" Char called. "Where are you going?" He ran to catch up to the hobbit.
"To my home," he replied. "Where else would I be going?"
The walk was a short one. They followed the creek on its way north until they reached a small grove. It was an orchard of peach, pear and apple trees. Such a place Char had never seen. The blossoms were of radiant colours and beautiful. They seemed to have come from some wondrous dream. Colindo saw the look of wonderment on Char's face and smiled.
"Lovely, aren't they?" He said.
"Did you grow these?" Char asked in admiration.
"Me? I can hardly keep a weed alive!"
"Then who do they belong?"
"These are the property of my best friend and loyal servant. He loves the earth and all that grows from it. He grew them when we came here some time ago."
"I have never seen their equal."
"Nor have many. I don't know how, but he always manages to make something even more beautiful than they can be."
They walked through the orchards and onto a stone path. There was the stream still running through, its water even clearer than it had been. There was a lovely garden off to one side. The buds were just beginning to come up from the ground. It was well tended with no visible weeds. Each plant was in with its kind in neat rows, and each row was labeled. On the other side, there was another garden. This had flowers of exquisite colour in bloom. Some Char had never seen before. Each was fair to look upon and weeded.
Up the path wound until they came to a wood fence and gate. Colindo opened the gate and they came inside. Another larger and even more beautiful garden was inside it. Violets and daisies bobbed up at them. Thousands of blue flax were dotted here and there. A pallet of colours was before them. Char could tell they were on a slowly sloping hill. Cut out from the side was a hobbit hole. But this was no ordinary hobbit hole.
The door and windows were circular, as was the custom of hobbits. Around their panes were wood of holly. Inscripted into the holly were gold marking of an Elvish sort. The door was also of holly with gold characters. There was a small window of stained glass in center. It had a stream of blue and a tree with golden leaves in it. On either side of the door was a perfectly trimmed hedge. Standing by was another hobbit. His hair was light brown hair and his eyes very dark. He seemed about the same age as Colindo.
"Hello, Mr. Lindo, sir," he said. "Lovely weather we're having."
"Indeed we are." Colindo replied. "Char, this my gardener and most trusted friend, Gaffer."
"Oh, Mr. Lindo, you're too kind." He bowed to Char. "It's an honour to have you, sir."
"Please," Char replied. "Call me Char."
"All right, Char then." He smiled. "Where'd you find this one, Mr. Lindo?"
"Up a tree, I'm afraid." Colindo replied. "Do you by any chance want lunch about now, Gaffer?"
"Sounds simply lovely, Mr. Lindo." Gaffer stated. "I'll go wash up and fix the table." He opened the door and went inside.
"He seems funny to me," Char said a moment later. "Do you know what I mean, sir?"
"I'm afraid not, Char," Colindo stated. "But I have known Gaffer all my long years and he always is the same to me. Come. Let us go inside."
Colindo opened the beautiful holly doors and walked inside. Char was hesitant at first. He had never been inside a stranger's house before. Then the inviting smell of mushrooms frying came to his nose. He went inside, following Colindo.
Chapter Three: The Hole of Colindo
He had never seen such a place! The walls were of dark cherry and had gold ornamentation covering them: curving letters of an elven kind. Sunlight was flooding in from every window in the house. A silver chandelier with silver candles hung in the entry hall. There were many pegs made of a wood Char had never seen before. On one was hung a cloak. The colour he could not match for it seemed to blend in with its surroundings.
He was led into the sunlit kitchen. It was filled with fresh vegetables. There were dried herbs and vegetables hanging from the rafters. A large, scrubbed table was in the center of the room with four matching chairs. Gaffer was bustling around the wood stove.
In a few minutes, Colindo, Gaffer, Char and Lymric were sitting at the table, laughing and enjoying their meal. They discussed events of the present and the past. Colindo told stories of the elves to the attentive ears of Char. Gaffer spoke of foreign plants he had known from their travels. (Apparently this pair had gone on quite a few adventures in their youth!) They had wonderful debates on Michel Delving and Char even managed to amaze them with stories of Gwen.
He stayed for several hours at Colindo's hole. The afternoon was waning fast when Char regretfully took his leave. He hurried back to Bag End with a bit more spring in his step, Lymric racing after him. He opened the door and dashed inside. Gwen welcomed him happily then sat quietly, listening to the excited descriptions of Char's new friends and his amazing afternoon.
"I don't know what it is about him," Char said of Colindo. "I just met him this afternoon but I feel like I've known him for ages. But I suppose that's not possible, is it?"
Gwen smiled at him. Beneath her eyes seemed to be wisdom unsurpassed by any other. It seemed that she knew of all the ages, yet told nothing. "Anything is possible, Char," she replied. "Anything."
***
Spring continued on its usual pattern. The blossoms on the trees became fuller and started to fall off. The days were lengthening and the crops were truly beginning to grow.
The afternoon could always find Char meandering before, but now he had a set out destination. He had taken to going to Colindo's hole to stay for awhile: discussing animals, telling jokes, but mostly hearing about Colindo's adventures. Char found them absolutely incredible! Colindo seemed to know more about orcs, trolls, dwarves, wizards and men than any other hobbit alive, save Gaffer who had traveled with him. Lymric would sit on Char's lap during the hobbits' Quenya conversations. Char was learning more now than he had in a long while.
One day, toward the end of spring, Char and Lymric were wandering along the creek bed. The sun was warm for, by its position, it was nearly noon. They came upon the tree by the creek where Colindo had first come upon them. Char wondered how many days, how many weeks it had been since that day. It seemed like such a long time, yet it couldn't have been.
The days had seemed so short for so long that they seemed to become a single train of thought thrown together. He wondered what could have caused such a result. Confusing but of total sense. He had felt more light-hearted in the days since he had met Colindo. And time seemed of no great importance to him.
He wandered a bit more up the creek, still in thought. The water was lapping at his feet playfully. He was enjoying the light of the day and the sound of the water. The world seemed so right and everything was at peace.
***
The kitchen at Bag End was filled with noontime sunlight. Gwen sat near the window, looking out at the sky. There were birds flying across the clouds. The small garden in front of the yard was blooming with the lovely springtime flowers.
But even though she was surrounded by all this beauty, Gwen felt sadness in her heart. A blackness too deep and dark to comprehend was growing in her mind. She felt a dread growing in her soul that she could not understand.
Then she felt something. Something out of the blackness. Someone was calling her. A cry of helplessness. Of pain. It was drawing her to them.
She ran, almost flew, out of the door and down the path. She was traveling as quickly as any. Going to her caller. The same thing was running through her mind, over and over again: Don't let it be true, don't let it be true.
Going almost blindly, she came upon an area she had never been before. There was a creek there, running swiftly on its path and a tree of great magnitude for the Shire. As she drew ever nearer, a shape loomed up over the horizon. A still and lifeless shape. No! she thought. No! Please, No!
"Char!"
Chapter Four: Behind the Looking Glass
There was no sunlight in this place. It seemed to be forever shrouded in an impenetrable darkness. Swirling fog surrounded this area. And a mist, a mist of a cruel, bleak kind. Nothing could survive in this uninhabitable place.
He staggered through the mists. He felt a cold that was so strong it seemed to be crippling him. He felt lost and alone. Alone in this awful and forsaken void.
He was frightened here in the dark. He knew not of where he was. This must be a different kind of place. Perhaps it was a different world. All he knew was that it was not anywhere in the Shire.
Not a thing in him that he could find brought him comfort. It seemed that his memory was gone. He knew not how he had gotten to wherever he was. There seemed to be nothing in his stomach, yet he felt no hunger. Only an abyss in his gut.
It made him uneasy and he was filled with dread.
Where am I? He did not speak these words aloud yet they seemed to fill the air. What? It happened again! His thoughts were almost echoing through the stingy air.
"How very peculiar." He said. It was quiet all around! "I speak and there is nothing. Yet I think and it is everywhere. Such a queer place this is!"
It seemed almost a puzzlement had been made into a physical form to him. This was almost a wonderment of an area.
This seemed to be someplace he had been before. He knew he had been here, by instinct or confusion he did not know. It was one of his past, he was sure. This was so familiar! And yet…
"I have no memory of this place!" he cried. "Yet it seems so near to me. It's as if I walked here in a dream once. Where could I be? And where is Lymric? He was right beside me at the creek bed. Then everything became dark and I came to here. Wherever 'here' really is."
He wandered aimlessly, marveling at the complexity of the situation. He knew of this place! But its location, name, inhabitants, history, everything was unknown to him. This was an uninhabitable and condemned region. Yet somehow Char knew where he was going.
For quite some time he walked ahead. He could see nothing but foggy, white mist. There seemed to be no floor, giving off the feeling of standing on air. He could hear voices up ahead. Laughter and sorrowful tears. But he knew not where they came from.
Then he saw something. Up ahead there was a light. Beautiful it was and dazzling to the eyes. It seemed to be magnified from all others, or perhaps that was just from the dark. It shone its wide array like a queen in her robe. Nothing had ever seemed so lovely to Char.
He was drawn to it by some power other than his own. His feet carried him as fast as they could. He could only go towards it. He could only escape the darkness.
He came to a curtain of sparkling diamonds. No, not diamonds. They were stars. Hundreds of them, strung together by some unseen force. All were coming together as one beautiful and complex thing. Beauty and grace were seemingly woven together into an intricate pattern in these stars. But even more wonderful was what was behind the curtain.
"Mirrors! Thousands of mirrors!" Char ran through the curtain to see his reflection. But he saw nothing of the sort.
There was a tall and mysterious man picking up, or attempting to as the case may be, a hobbit. But he became suddenly awake.
"Don't worry!" the hobbit cried. "I am all right!"
Char turned to look at another: deep, dark trenches coated with fire in a darker and shadow-filled place.
He turned, observing different mirrors. He saw elves in their forests and men in their castles. Dwarves mining for riches and wolves hunting for food. He heard bits of conversation and lines of songs. There were languages the likes of which no one had heard in a thousand years.
"Why, these do not show the present!" Char exclaimed. "This is the past!"
He looked around in wonderment. It was incredible. Here was all of history in front of him. Then he heard something.
"Char! Char! Come back!" It was Gwen! He ran to look at this memory of his. But it was no memory. He had never seen Gwen look so alarmed.
"Char! Where are you? Can you hear me?"
"Yes Gwen!" he cried. "Yes, I can hear you! This is a different mirror! For this is the now!"
"Char? Char!" She wept. Her fair face was penetrated by tears. It broke his heart to see such a lovely creature in this state.
"I can not reach her." He said. "I know it." He touched the mirror, fighting back tears. "I promise I'll get to you. I promise."
He turned away from the image. Now this didn't seem like such a wonderful place. It was now dark and cruel. He longed to leave. Then he saw a passage leaving the room. He walked through.
***
A garden. It was of a grand size. In its day it might have been glorious. There was a fountain in the very center which had a sculpture of a water nymph. Around it were ancient trees and flowerbeds that had beheld the loveliest of plants.
But now it was a bare, withered, wretched area. The trees were gnarled and the beds looked like they had been burned to chars. The fountain was destroyed and about ten feet away the water nymph lay. A mist hung in the air.
Charon wandered around this place and it seemed to him that all hope was gone. It was dark here for the sun did not shine. This was a tomb for all that was once good here. The very air seemed to chill the marrow. It seemed to him that he had wandered into a nightmare that he could not wake up from.
The bitter silence was broken. He could hear hoof beats, only a mile off, and growing closer fast. He stood still, listening.
"What could that be?" He wondered aloud. It continued to grow closer with every second. He was certain he should run and hide, but something held him back. A longing of ages was imbedded in to him and he felt himself almost wanting to find out what it was. Part of him wanted to be found. Then he saw it.
A rider of a black horse. It was tall, this rider, and clad in black shrouds. It held a sword erect as it came to Char. From its hidden mouth, a screech, horrible and impenetrable, pierced the air. Char stood rooted to the spot. The rider's sword was coming to his throat. He could not move, just stay there, petrified. He could feel the icy metal and hear the horrid scream. This was it. He was going to die, alone and frightened, and no one would ever know. There was a blast of hot, white light, then all went black.
Chapter Five: Of Puzzles, Predicaments, and Prologues
Char bolted upright. Cold sweat was running down his face and body with inconceivable force. He was breathing hard, often in gasps and was unable to come to grips with reality. His eyes were wide open yet he could not truly see.
A short time passed before his senses returned. He was in Colindo's hole. There was a kettle hanging in the fireplace over a set of flames. He could smell herbs all round him. Yet though this sight was familiar, it seemed quite melancholy. Then he heard a voice.
"Char! Char! Are you all right?" He turned.
"Yes Gwen," he replied when her face came to him. She embraced him. "I, I think so at least. What happened?"
"You've been out for several hours." This time it was Colindo who spoke. "We were starting to think you wouldn't make it." His usually cheery face looked quite grave and somewhat older.
"I was?" Char questioned. "How long have I been lying here, exactly? What happened? What time is it? Why-"
"Shhh…" Gwen soothed. "It's all right, little one. Be still."
He laid his head back down. He was quite puzzled and also felt achey all over. How long had he been there? Not that long was it? Or perhaps it had been…
He could hear Gwen and Colindo talking. Somehow it seemed to him that they knew each other. They were talking about Colindo's adventures and Gwen kept saying something about remembering parts of it. He sat up, listening closely.
"Well after all that I came back here, of course. But you know about that already." Colindo laughed at his speech.
"Of course!" Gwen replied. "I was there! I just don't understand something."
"What's that?"
"Why us? Why out of the five that went did they choose us?"
"I don't entirely know. They told me some things of course, but not all. I'm just astonished that they were right!"
"Right about what?"
"Well, when they were explaining a few extra things to me, after the magic but before we left, they said to me, 'Do not worry, brave halfling, when you find him you will know."
"How peculiar."
"Peculiar indeed. But come! Our patient seems to be listening!" Colindo was smiling at Char. Gwen turned to him.
"What are you talking about?" Char asked.
"Old times, dear. Old times." Gwen replied.
"Old times?" Char was puzzled. Then a thought struck him. "Do you know each other?"
"I'm afraid so." Colindo joked. "From a long time ago."
"How?"
"How does one usually meet people?" Colindo replied. "Your head still is a bit foggy I see."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because we weren't sure." Gwen said in a more serious tone. "We didn't want to get you excited about nothing."
"I still would have liked to know. When did you meet?"
"It was on an adventure of mine." Colindo said. "I had wandered into Lórien looking for a bed, I found a queen!"
"Queen?" Char was amazed. "You're kidding!"
"No!" Colindo responded with raised eyebrows. "I'd never kid about such a thing!"
Char looked at Gwen with a newfound light. Queen? Not Gwen! She was more of an aunt to him then a queen. Yet sitting here at her feet, she seemed to him to be such a queen. Beautiful and terrible as the morning and the night.
"You are." He spoke. "I never saw it before. But now I do. The fairest of all in any age."
"No, not now." She replied. "I was, many a year ago. But no longer." Her voice was sad, yet joyful. Such as someone reviewing their fondest memories and realizing that those days were no more. "I was Galadriel."
It was ridiculous! Yet looking up at her, it made perfect sense. Of course it was true! Gwen didn't even know how to lie! She was Galadriel: ring-bearer and queen, counselor and friend.
She spoke long of her home that had lost its magic with the coming of the New Age. She spoke of Celeborn who stayed there when she went into the West. Then she spoke of her return to be guardian of the Shire. Then ended with how she had come across Char's body that day and being led by Lymric to Colindo's hole.
All was silent for awhile. Char was turning things over in his mind. Then a thought struck him.
"Why did I black out like that?" he asked. "I hadn't hit my head, had I?"
"No," Galadriel said. "My guess is some trauma that happened earlier in your life came back to you. It's dark magic. And ancient. Is there anything you can think of?"
He thought for a while. Then he remembered something long forgotten.
When he was younger, not after his parents died, he was stuck taking care of himself. He had lived in Buckland at the time and had landed with more of a reputation than anyone would want. He was wandering about on his own when he meandered into the Old Forest, a very queer place. Standing and looking about, he saw lights in the distance and was plagued by curiosity.
When he came to them, he found a hut. There, there lived a woman. She was very, very old and about hobbit-sized. Yet she looked nothing like a hobbit to Char. It was strange, almost frightening, to him.
She offered him to come inside and also food and a little while out of the cold. He took her offer gratefully and pushed aside his fears for the present.
After he had warmed up and felt a bit fuller, he thanked her and was heading toward the door. But she took hold his forearm with a surprisingly strong grasp.
She spoke to him, "I thank you for coming, for now I can die. It was written in the books: 'The one whom is the second will take the thing and be the burden of all!' I never had reason to believe them 'til now." Then the woman and the hut disappeared, forever.
Char felt, then, a pain on the place that she had touched. He looked at it and saw a poisonous green sign.
It soon faded and became just a mark on his arm. He often kept it hidden, but never took much notice to it, like a birthmark that he had had forever.
He looked at it now, bright read and glowing, and told of the story to the company who listened intently.
"Oh no." Gwen said seeming graver than ever. "It has come true."
"What has?" Char asked.
Then Colindo said, "We must get to Rivendell."
END BOOK ONE