The Fifth Age
Chapter 6: The Clouds Gather
By Glorfindel's Girl
Author's Note: See what happens when I put off updating? You get a bonus chapter! Short, yes, but bonus chapter all the same. Reviews welcome, flames from so-called Tolkien purists with over-inflated egos will be promptly laughed at. Loosen up, guys. It's clearly stated that this fic is not to be taken too seriously. Translations for all dialogue is found at the bottom of the story.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own either Isaiah or Judah. Well, under those names maybe…but they're not really my characters. Take it up with Tolkien.
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Approximately 12 miles outside a small Irish village…
The horse sped along the forest path, it's rider's long gold hair streaming out behind him. The sunlight peeking through the treetops made the horse's coat gleam like silver, and intensified the color of the rider's hair. The man urged the horse on faster, as he expertly guided it through the maze of trees – an act which revealed his mass experience at navigating the trail.
They emerged into a clearing, and the rider tugged the reins hard, checking the horse to a halt. The horse tossed its head and whinnied in protest of the abrupt stop to its fun. The rider paid it no heed, and instead guided it slowly toward the center of the clearing.
A large, flat stone rested in the precise middle of the clearing. Upon this stone sat a man, his dark hair resting upon his shoulders. His eyes were closed, his long eyelashes sitting upon high cheekbones.
"Judah," the rider called, stopping his horse next to the stone. The man slowly opened his eyes, which were an intense grey blue, and looked up at the one mounted upon the horse. The rider reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out an envelope.
"Quetta tul an le," he said as he handed the envelope to Judah.
"Man ello?" Judah muttered to himself, taking the envelope and opening it. He scanned the pages contained within. He stopped, set the papers down in this lap and looked at the rider again. "What does this mean, Isaiah?"
"It means that the clouds are gathering, and very soon they will burst," he replied softly.
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"Quetta tul an le" – Word has come for you
"Man ello?" – from whom?
