Thanks to the total two reviewers! I love you, ja!

~Hoshiko

Truth Revealed

The next few years of Ondril's life went as it had the past years of his life. In eight years he had totally forgotten about his gift from the Istari, and had practically forgotten the Istari himself. Nothing changed about Ondril, until one night, exactly eight years later, on his fifty-third birthday.

            Ondril sat up, sweating, looking around his bedroom. He had just had one of those dreams again. Recently he had been having dreams about the Red Book. He had been dismissing them, he had had dreams like this before, but none of them had been as violent as this one.

He was sitting in the dark, he couldn't move, his breathe had to come in short gasps because there was no air. He had started, and woken up from a dream, gasping for breathe. When he did another body jumped up, and went over to him.

'Frodo, Frodo, it's all right!' he had said soothingly, and hugged Ondril. Ondril pulled away and looked at the hobbit's face.

'Brom?' He had asked, and the hobbit shook his head.

'No, Mr. Frodo, it's me, Sam.' He said, and Ondril had woken up. That had been strange, but real… as if he had done it before. The other hobbit had looked exactly like Brom, and he had sounded like him too. These types of dreams had been more vivid and realistic than the others… more frightening. He wiped the sweat from his face and swung his legs off the bed. He needed some tea.

He took his cup out of his cupboard, and set it down on his table. He started the fire again, and put a kettle of water on to boil. While it boiled he sat down in his chair, and propped his head onto his hands.

Sam

Frodo

They were all names he had heard before; both were in the Red Book. He got up and got his only, precious copy of it from his bookshelf. The letters on the front were fading, but it was a rather recent copy. The leaves of paper were white and new, and nothing had fallen out or been hurt. It was the only existing copy he knew of.

He opened it, and started in the middle of the book he had started reading when something made him stop.

'Mr. Frodo?' a voice called, and he stopped. He looked around frantically, and turned totally around to see a vaguely familiar scene in front of him. The fire in the hearth had suddenly grown, and there were transparent figures in front of him. Sitting next to the fire was another copy of himself, and walking in the door way was Brom; well, it looked like Brom. He opened the door slowly, and walked slowly over to the transparent-Ondril. Brom put his hand on his shoulder, and he looked up, startled.

'Mr. Frodo, are you all right?' he asked, and though the transparency looked rather pale, he smiled and nodded.

'Yes, Sam, I'm fine.' He said, and Sam shook his head.

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, Sam, go to sleep.' Frodo said, and Ondril was surprised to find himself saying what Frodo was along with him. Sam nodded, and slowly left, glancing back at Frodo before closing the door. Frodo turned back to the fire, and Ondril wandered over to the chair next to him. He sat, and looked at Frodo, reading the features on his face. He looked exactly like him, down to the small freckle on his arm. He reached out to touch the figure, but his hand passed through, startling him. He took his hand away, and something caught his attention in the corner of his eye.

Something on the mantle was glowing. Curiosity over took him, and he stood, going over to it. He glanced to see that Frodo was still there, and he put his hand on the thing that was going. It was the gift that the strange old man had given to him years before. He opened the bag, and took it out. It was glowing a rather strange red color, and as he passed his finger over the writing the transparent scene vanished. He looked around again, but everything was as it had been. He looked back down at the stone, and stared into it. It seemed suddenly captivating.

It was a moment before he realized what was happening. Memories were flooding back into his head, memories of the hobbit that looked like Brom, and many others. When he could see his room again, he shook his head.

''What is going on?' He said to himself, and looked down at the stone in his hand. The glowing had stopped. He fingered it, and put it back into the bag on the mantle. He got his tea, and while he was drinking it, he rubbed his hands together.

He did not ever remember acquiring the stone, when had he received it? He could not remember. He sat there in his chair for the rest of the night, trying to figure out when he had come into possession of it.

Ondril was awoken the next morning by a loud banging on his front door. He blinked his eyes sleepily and found that he had fallen asleep at his dinning room table. He stood up sleepily, and when he answered the door he found the strange visitor he had received years ago standing there again.

'Ondril Baggins. Or shall I say Frodo?' he said, and smiled. 'We meet again.' Ondril stepped to the side, letting the Istari in.

'You're not Brendalin, you really are Gandalf, aren't you?' Ondril asked, and Brendalin shook his head, putting down his staff.

'No, Ondril, I'm sorry to say that you're accusation is wrong. I am very similar to him, but I am not. He left with you over the sea an age ago.' He said, and Ondril looked down, disappointed. 'I believe you have realized your past, and have a question, perhaps?'

'Yes, I do. What am I doing here, again? What happened to me in Valinor?'

'Ah, I am sorry, Ondril, but I do not quite know. I have been over here the time you were in the west. I believe, though, that you died Ondril. When it was seen what would come, you were needed again. Only you, my dear Baggins, would be chosen for another task as this. You are the only one.' he said, sounding so much like Gandalf that a shiver passed through Ondril while he remembered the deep, dark halls of Moria.

'And what about Brom? He was-'

'Samwise Gamgee. I realize this, but he does not. You are the only one whom remembers who they are, and it will stay that way for quiet some time. I warn you, let them remember on their own.' He said, and Ondril nodded. The foreboding in his voice was very convincing. 'Now, the stone Ondril.' Ondril nodded, and led Brendalin to the dining room. He retrieved it from the top of his fireplace, and put it in the middle of the table.

'What task?' Ondril asked, and Brendalin looked at the stone.

'Mr. Baggins, you have in your possession a precious gem of the second age. The precious gem, if you will. Its name is the Lóndësarn. Dusk Stone. Yet another tool of the Dark Lord. Enchanted with Dark Magic it is the final decision to weather Sauron lives or not.'

'But when the Ring was destroyed, so was Sauron, right?' Ondril asked, becoming exceedingly worried.

'No. Gandalf, impossible as it may seem, was wrong. It destroyed him only for a certain period of time. He is back, and beckoning for his old followers.'

'But there has been no orc-sightings for centuries.' Ondril argued, and Brendalin nodded.

'Hiding in the shadows, leaderless, awaiting the rise of a new Dark Lord. They have started to hear his call again, and they are multiplying. They will soon be a known race again.' There was a silence, and when Brendalin saw fit he continued.

'Sauron created the Lóndësarn shortly after the One Ring. The spell cast upon it turned it black, and became imprinted on its surface.' He said, and Ondril picked it up, looking at the letters.

'It's in the black-speech, isn't it?'

'Yes. It says thus: "The Black Power, if ever failing, the Black Power that has been thrown down,

The Black Power that will be resurrected, the Black Power, this stone will be its crown" It must be destroyed, Ondril, or it will recreate the Ring and Sauron.' He said, but when he saw the look in Ondril's eyes his expression softened.

'I must go again?' Ondril asked, and Brendalin nodded.

'Yes, Ondril. We only trust you.' Brendalin said, and Ondril looked down in deep thought.

'Must I leave right away?'

'Yes.'

'Alone?'

'Alone?' Brendalin said, suddenly laughing. 'If I know that Gardener, he is here somewhere, listening.' He said, and looked near the window. The tall sunflowers were shaking a slight bit, and the Istari stood.

'Bromwine Gardener, show yourself!' he said, and the rustling stopped. Slowly, cautiously, the top of a head was showing itself, eventually turning into the face of Brom.

'Hello, sir.' He said, and the Wizard beckoned him closer with his finger.

'Come here, Bromwine, I know you can remember me.' He said, and Brom walked through the door slowly, head hung. He made it to Brendalin and he looked down at the ground, ready to be yelled at. He was surprised, however, when Brendalin smiled.

'Mr. Gardener, you realize that you have heard a very secret conversation, don't you?'

'Yes.' Brom's voice came out as a squeak, even though the tone of Brendalin was very kindly.

'You will pay for your actions.'

'I know.'

'I suspected you would. You will leave with Ondril tomorrow, he'll know where to go.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Now go home and pack your things, you will do no more gardening today.' He said, and when Brom didn't move, he pointed to the door. 'Good-bye!' he said, and Brom jumped and ran for the door, hurrying out quickly. Ondril shook his head at the hobbit that had just slammed the door.

'Poor Brom, wizards have always frightened him terribly.' He said, trying not to laugh. Brendalin, however, chuckled to himself.

'Maybe next time he will not listen in on world-fatal conversations.' He said, and turned back to Ondril. 'Come along, now, you should pack.' He said, and Ondril nodded, leaving the stone on the table. He packed clothes, food, his pipe, and put the stone in his front pocket. It was only the size of a grape, he wanted to make sure not to loose it. When he had made sure he had everything, Brendalin offered him a chair, and Ondril sat.

'You must go to the town of Nolner, where I will have someone waiting for you. If I do not come, do not worry, I will meet you in Rivendell.'

'There is still such a place?' Ondril asked, and Brendalin sat up strait.

'Yes, of course! Did you think such a place would be destroyed?' he asked, and Ondril rubbed his hands together. 'Now, I will meet you there. The Shire's border's end before Nolner, so you must be especially careful.' He said while Ondril glanced at the sun veiled in a red light.

'Nazgul… are there any thing like Nazgul about?' he asked, and Brendalin shook his head.

'I do not know, Ondril. The hour came sooner than I thought it would have, I could not gather all information.' He said, and Ondril nodded. 'Stay off the road, though.'

'Of coarse.' Ondril said, and kept his stare out the window. After a moment Brendalin put his hand on Ondril's shoulder.

'Get some sleep, master Baggins. You have a long journey tomorrow.' He said, and Ondril nodded, getting up, and leaving for his bed. He could hardly fall asleep, and when he woke up the next morning Brendalin had gone.