A New Sun Rises
By Talking Hawk
Author's Note: What started out as a postcard/letter that I had to write for English on the SSR book that we read (guess what I read; hmmm. . .) turned into this short story. It deals with Aragorn's grief, though somewhat ignored by LOTR fans, I feel that in some ways, his was greater than the others' - perhaps with the exception of Frodo's. This is his story.
Hardly a month has passed since that dreadful day, but my weary heart counts the minutes and hours as they slowly trickle onward as a droplet of drew avidly clings to its blade of grass in the light of a new day's sunrise.
I fear that the sun might never come.
O, Mithrandir, Mithrandir! How the Shire will mourn for thee - and the Elvenfolk, too, and perhaps even the Men who once sired thee Gandalf Stormcrow, so wrongfully named for thy warnings of folly. It is too great a pain - and responsibility's burden - that we all now must tow in your absence.
I now find myself treading in your guiding footsteps, however faltering mine own feet do prove.
I am frightened for the Fellowship, Gandalf, however well my face hides it. Evil eyes follow the Company, though they cannot see us clearly again while in this safe realm.
How might a fool wielding a sword protect them?
You have taught me well, this is true. You have taught me to track and to chase Evil wherever it might run to. For years, we followed Gollum even unto the borders of Mordor; but when we got there, it was too late. They had found him.
I know you would not have left if you thought me unworthy of this role, but even now, I must stand here and question.
Do you trust in me, Gandalf? Do you truly believe that I can safeguard the Ringbearer?
Responsibility is not the only thorn in me, however. There is another.
Whenever I catch a glimpse of a teary eye, or a brushing hand across a cheek, I know they are thinking of you. Before the ill-fated journey through Moria, these tears might have been shed for a home missed or a loved one far away, but hope always remained in returning to these things. With the Grey Wanderer, there is not.
* There is still hope. . . *
O, Mithrandir, Mithrandir! How I wish to grieve with them, if just for a short while! But ne, alas, that was not your intent. You would not have us grieve for thee - least of all, me, the newest guardian of our Company. No, I must remain strong and true, as that is what you would have desired of me.
Farewell, Gandalf the Grey, it is you that I dedicate this day's pondering to. Perhaps a new sun will rise, replacing this gloom in the darkened sky that stretches its hand from the East. I will still remember you when the world forgets.
You were my mentor, you were my friend,
I know we will someday - somewhere - meet again. . .
A new sun rises, Gandalf.
* There is always hope. . . *
By Talking Hawk
Author's Note: What started out as a postcard/letter that I had to write for English on the SSR book that we read (guess what I read; hmmm. . .) turned into this short story. It deals with Aragorn's grief, though somewhat ignored by LOTR fans, I feel that in some ways, his was greater than the others' - perhaps with the exception of Frodo's. This is his story.
Hardly a month has passed since that dreadful day, but my weary heart counts the minutes and hours as they slowly trickle onward as a droplet of drew avidly clings to its blade of grass in the light of a new day's sunrise.
I fear that the sun might never come.
O, Mithrandir, Mithrandir! How the Shire will mourn for thee - and the Elvenfolk, too, and perhaps even the Men who once sired thee Gandalf Stormcrow, so wrongfully named for thy warnings of folly. It is too great a pain - and responsibility's burden - that we all now must tow in your absence.
I now find myself treading in your guiding footsteps, however faltering mine own feet do prove.
I am frightened for the Fellowship, Gandalf, however well my face hides it. Evil eyes follow the Company, though they cannot see us clearly again while in this safe realm.
How might a fool wielding a sword protect them?
You have taught me well, this is true. You have taught me to track and to chase Evil wherever it might run to. For years, we followed Gollum even unto the borders of Mordor; but when we got there, it was too late. They had found him.
I know you would not have left if you thought me unworthy of this role, but even now, I must stand here and question.
Do you trust in me, Gandalf? Do you truly believe that I can safeguard the Ringbearer?
Responsibility is not the only thorn in me, however. There is another.
Whenever I catch a glimpse of a teary eye, or a brushing hand across a cheek, I know they are thinking of you. Before the ill-fated journey through Moria, these tears might have been shed for a home missed or a loved one far away, but hope always remained in returning to these things. With the Grey Wanderer, there is not.
* There is still hope. . . *
O, Mithrandir, Mithrandir! How I wish to grieve with them, if just for a short while! But ne, alas, that was not your intent. You would not have us grieve for thee - least of all, me, the newest guardian of our Company. No, I must remain strong and true, as that is what you would have desired of me.
Farewell, Gandalf the Grey, it is you that I dedicate this day's pondering to. Perhaps a new sun will rise, replacing this gloom in the darkened sky that stretches its hand from the East. I will still remember you when the world forgets.
You were my mentor, you were my friend,
I know we will someday - somewhere - meet again. . .
A new sun rises, Gandalf.
* There is always hope. . . *