Author's note: I can't begin to apologize…so I don't think I'll try. To put it in a nutshell – final exams, traveling from Vermont to Florida (what a disgusting drive!), redoing my entire room, and getting ready to go to Japan have eaten my time up to nothing. Regardless, here's the next part, and although I do promise that it's all coming to a close, don't stop reading yet! Look for another part before 28 May, which is when I'm off for Japan. As always, please review!
Where the Shadows Lie
A Tale Of The Ring
"Wisest of the Maiar was Olórin. He too dwelt in Lórien, but his ways took him often to the house of Nienna, and of her he learned pity and patience."
Chapter Twenty-Four: Farewells
"Must you?" Aragorn asked him softly, his eyes riveted upon the figure before him. Danger, the King had never feared, but foolish risk of life he abhorred. His old friend, he believed, had more than earned his share in this time of peace and light… So why, then, did he insist on risking it all?
"I must," Gandalf replied with a gentle smile, but even the smile could not hide the pain in his eyes or the exhaustion on his face. A scarce three weeks had passed since Elrond and Galadriel had returned, bearing an unconscious and greatly aged Gandalf between them. The wizard had not awoken for two of those three weeks, and the Fellowship had worried for him, despite the fact that Elrond, the greatest healer in all Middle-Earth, assured them that he would be fine. But Aragorn, no matter how much he trusted his future father-in-law, had fretted over the Maia in the little free time he possessed. It had been a full three weeks, though, and had included their return to Minas Tirith from the Black Tower and Aragorn's official assumption of the kingship of Gondor. He had been grateful that Gandalf had recovered soon enough to take part in his coronation, but the wizard still seemed to have changed greatly. He was quieter now, and smiled less. It seemed that he had undergone a great trial, and Aragorn still worried for him.
"Can you not wait a little?" the King asked his old mentor, but was not surprised when Gandalf shook his head.
"Elrond and Galadriel depart at first light, and with them I must go," the Maia replied, his voice softer than it would have been, once upon a time. There were additional lines, two, upon his face; although he remained Gandalf the White, he now seemed more aged and frail than Gandalf the Grey had ever been.
Aragorn sighed. Could Gandalf not see that it was foolish to take this risk? Or was it that something inside him simply could not let go of the past? The former Ranger had always respected and admired the other's wisdom, and he prayed that it would not fail Gandalf now. "And when you reach the Gray Havens?" he asked. "What then?"
"We let fate take its course." Gandalf's eyes met his own, cool and steady, and Aragorn had to wonder if he knew something that they did not.
Inwardly, though, he still was consumed by worry. Had Gandalf not been exiled from Valinor, cast from the Order of Maiar? The Valar had already shown how ungrateful they were for his sacrifice, had already shown how unwilling they were to understand… So why, then, would he step forward and give them an excuse to kill him? Before he could find a way to articulate his concerns, Gandalf spoke once more, seeming to read his mind.
And that was not the first time that Aragorn wondered if the wizard had not done just that.
"My place, Aragorn, is not on Middle-Earth," the wizard said gently. "And while I thank you for your offer, I cannot stay. I do not belong here."
"Why not?" The King felt like a small child who wondered what made the sun rise and set, but he did not care. He simply did not want to let an old friend sacrifice himself when the world owed him so much.
"I am not a creature of your world," Gandalf replied simply. "I was sent here to be the Enemy of Sauron, and my time upon Middle-Earth has passed. As much as I love this place, I do not belong here. You are entering the Age of Man. The time for magic has passed."
Aragorn swallowed. So, he would walk to his death, then… "But they have exiled you, Gandalf. They will kill you if you return."
"Perhaps," the Maia admitted. Then he sighed, and the King truly saw how much he had aged. Gandalf was tired. "I hope that my destruction of the Ring will have taught them something. But if not…" He shrugged his shoulders but suddenly seemed so very inhuman. He seemed to grow in that instant, to change and to awaken – just for the moment. "I will accept the judgment of the Valinor."
"What if it is death?" Aragorn had to ask.
"I am a Maia, Aragorn." The soft voice took on a strength that the king had thought the Ring had robbed the wizard of for all time. "I will meet fate as such."
The King opened his mouth to object, but Gandalf raised a hand to forestall him. "For one such as I, there is no other way."
Sadness swept through Aragorn with the speed and strength of fire. Either way, he would lose one of his oldest and most treasured friends – either to death, or to the Western Shores…and either way, he would lose him forever. His voice almost caught in his throat as he said, "I wish you luck, then."
The wizard shocked the king by embracing him, but Aragorn returned the hug with equal ease. Gandalf pulled back a little and smiled at him, then. "It is you, Aragorn, who will need the luck," he said. "But you will make a fine king."
I hope so, he thought silently, but replied, "I will miss you."
"And I you," the Maia replied. "Rule well, Aragorn of Gondor."
Goodbyes were never easy, especially when they were for eternity. Aragorn, Gandalf reflected, had been the hardest; Frodo or Bilbo might have had that singular honor had the two Baggins' not been accompanying the bearers of the Three to the Havens and beyond, but the King had certainly been the most difficult to part with of those remaining.
Pippin and Merry had been uncharacteristically quiet, too, and he sensed that the loss of both Frodo and Sam would take both of them a long time to recover from, but they would survive, the wizard knew, and thrive. There was much work yet to be done for all the mortals they left behind, and for the immortals, as well. Celeborn, of course, was accompanying them; he'd only been held to Middle-Earth throughout the last centuries by his great love for Galadriel. But Celeborn would be the only one who had not been a Ring-bearer to make the journey. All others had chosen to wait, or had been slain in the short but bloody war.
Legolas and Gimli had been difficult as well, though not so sad; dwarves were long-lived and gruff creatures, and Legolas, of course, was an elf. He understood, as did Thranduil and Arwen, whom Gandalf had seen shed tears in her farewells to her father, grandmother, and grandfather. She was leaving them even as they left her, moving into another world and a mortal life. For her, though, he had smiled, admiring, as he always had, her courage and fortitude; she and Aragorn would grow closer as time swept by, and he knew them both for what they were and what they would be: strong individuals, great leaders, and the parents of a dynasty.
Boromir and Faramir had asked the same questions that Aragorn had, with the same logic and emotion tying them up and swinging them in circles. None of them understood, of course, why he had to go – and part of Gandalf was not sure if he understood himself. But that, he knew, was Gandalf speaking. Olórin had to go, because despite what Radagast had said, he was a Maia until the end. He would live as one, or die as one, and accept the judgment of the Valar, whatever it turned out to be. Besides, he was tired of war, tired of conflict and responsibility, though the second was foreign to his nature. The One had hurt him in many ways, though, aside from the merely physical ones, although he himself had yet to identify all of them.
If there was one thing he knew for sure, though, it was that he did not belong on Middle-Earth.
Shadowfax tensed underneath him as the Gray Havens grew larger in the distance, and Gandalf had felt his companions' eyes drift to him more often as they came closer to their destination. They were all wondering, as he was, what fate held in store, and if the Valar would make good their promise of exile and war. Thoughts like that left even Elrond and Galadriel uneasy – as well they should have been, for both were old enough to remember what was really at risk. Frodo and Bilbo (who had miraculously recovered as soon as the Ring was taken from Sauron, a fact that the others had learned as soon as he journeyed from Rivendell to meet them when they returned to Gondor) were quieter than might have otherwise been expected; even Bilbo, who was usually so wonderfully dense that he neglected to notice that the world did not revolve around his small body, seemed affected by the elves' silence. Celeborn, too, only looked on with mournful eyes that reminded Gandalf that he, too, knew the risks.
A sigh from the Maia brought Shadowfax to a halt; after their trials together, the horse knew his rider's every move and every wish without communication. Shadowfax, too, of course, knew where they were going and what it could cost, but he was also in this, as he had made plain, until the end.
Slowly, Gandalf looked to the others, his eyes scanning their expectant faces. The resolution in their eyes, though, scared him, and the Maia knew that his greatest fears were about to come to pass.
"I thank you all for the support you have shown me," he said softly, "but I cannot ask you to do more. I will wait here while you ride on to the Gray Havens."
"But I thought you were coming with us, Gandalf?" Frodo asked innocently, but the wizard's eyes were truly on Galadriel and Elrond – to his surprise, though, it was Galadriel's eyes that hardened with determination as he spoke.
From somewhere within himself, the Maia found a gentle smile. "When I go to the Havens, Frodo, I will do so alone."
"But why?"
"There are many reasons, my friend," Gandalf responded softly. "Chief amongst them, though, is that I will not endanger you. Any of you."
Before the hobbit could press further, Elrond's cold voice intervened. "You think they will kill you."
"I think they might." The admission was easy to say with calm. For some reason, though, the prospect did not frighten the Maia as it once would have. He had faced death before, known what it felt like. So be it, if he had to walk down that path again.
Both hobbits looked at him with sadness and compassion, and once again, the wizard was reminded of why he loved their kind. You could learn all there was to know about Hobbits in the space of one day…and sometime or another, they would still surprise you. It was for their sakes, chiefly, that he wished to ride alone, for they could have no power over what was to come. Conversely, though, he wished equally to leave his fellow bearers of the Three behind, especially Galadriel – proud and beautiful Galadriel, too strong and wise to give up or ever change her mind.
"I'm not sure I understand," Bilbo said after several uncomfortable moments of silence. "You destroyed the Ring, didn't you? Shouldn't that mean you are a hero to them?"
His old friend's naivety brought a bittersweet smile from the Maia. "Nay, Bilbo," Gandalf responded. "To the Valar, and my own kind, it means I am corrupted, tainted by the Ring – forever."
"And you think to protect us," Frodo whispered.
"All of you will be welcome upon the Western Shores," he replied. "It is I who must pay the price for what I have done." A strange chill worked its way down his spine, then, and he felt the need to have this over with, to know, one way or another, how it would turn out. It was funny, that a large part of him did not care what the outcome would be – he only wished his loyal friends to be free of it, and him. That was the only mission he had left.
Suddenly, though, Galadriel's voice made his head snap around. She spoke with startling strength and authority, something that even he had never seen from her – and her tone allowed no argument, even from a Maia.
"Olórin," she said, startling the others with the use of his true name. "You have not been alone in this, from the beginning, or at the end. Elrond and I have always known the risks, and therefore have as much to answer for as you do. We have said that we are with you until the end. Therefore, you will not go alone to the Gray Havens.
"We are still with you."
