SPOILERS: There may be some from the LOTR trilogy.
AUTHOR'S NOTE AND DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the Tolkien characters. The Dozan characters in this story are original, as well as the cities of Doza and Tersaf. I have very limited knowledge regarding Middle Earth geography, and I would greatly appreciate feedback regarding this matter. This fiction is my first attempt in writing Tolkien fanfiction.
FEEDBACK: Greatly appreciated! You can leave it at the review section or sent it directly to me via email: sidlestokes@yahoo.com
TO ALL THOSE WHO REVIEWED: Thanks! I appreciate your reviews, I'm glad you seem to like what I write. As for Eowyn, I am just one of those who find it difficult to believe that she truly had stopped loving Aragorn and had moved on with Faramir. Nevertheless, she is one of my favorite characters, and she is part of this story.
THE LAST ISTARI
By Mooose
Chapter 4
When Mahtan woke up, he was greeted by a throbbing headache. He tried to open his eyes, but the brightness upped the intensity of his headache by several notches. Groaning, he shut his eyes and tried to clear his mind.
The last thing he remembered was the ambush. He knew Katana had escaped, but how far she got he did not know. Hazily he recalled seeing her slumped on a speeding horse, a horse not familiar with the woods they were traversing. If any of his captors had followed her, surely they would have caught her.
He did not know what happened to Rolo. He probably was drugged, too, but Mahtan was not sure. Putting his hand in front of his face, he attempted once more to open his eyes. His headache intensified once again, but not as much as in his previous attempt. Mahtan squinted and realized he was still in the woods, possibly even in the exact clearing where he fell. Not far from him was Rolo's still form and fear gripped his heart as he tried to get up to check on his friend.
"He is alive, do not waste your strength trying to get to him."
Mahtan turned his head towards the direction of the voice and found himself staring at a white vision. He shielded his eyes but all he could make out was the outline of a man. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"What I want you cannot give," the man said. Just then Rolo stirred and groaned. Ignoring the stranger's words, Mahtan painfully went to his friend and helped him up.
"The two of you listen to me, and listen well because you will have to recount this," the man said, his voice cold. He appeared to be unconcerned with the plight of the injured men before him.
"Who are you?" Mahtan asked again. The glare ebbed a little, and Mahtan gasped. "Mithrandir?"
"No, I am not Mithrandir," the man snapped. "Who I am I will reveal in time." There was a moment of tense silence, which was broken only when the stranger continued talking. "Now this is what I want you to know. In the time of the Numenorean Kings, a prophecy was made by a little known yet powerful wizard, Pileas. Pileas had the gift of foresight, and as well as a remarkable ability to comprehend and analyze the behavior of the elements. With these, he was able to concoct a powerful potion, which when taken at the time when the energy fields of Middle Earth are in the correct orientation, can give the drinker the power to rule over Middle Earth and its inhabitants. However, the right time to take the elixir of Rantel, as he called this potion, was beyond his lifetime. And so he did the next best thing: he preserved the instructions on how to create the elixir and passed it on secretly down his line, such that one of his descendants could have the power he wanted so much but could never have."
The stranger paused for a moment to allow his words to sink in. "Now that time is approaching. The potion is being made, and only one ingredient is lacking. Blood, that is what is missing, blood given up for the love of one who is among the line of kings."
"I will not let you get to the king!" Mahtan exclaimed fiercely.
"We'll see about that," the stranger replied. "You will be taken in captivity, and your friend I will allow to go. I am sure that once your brother finds out about you, he will do everything in his power to get you. Then I'll have what I want."
"Do not tell my brother about me," Mahtan turned to Rolo as he felt strong winds engulf him. "Promise me you won't tell him about me!"
"I promise!" Rolo cried as he tried to reach out in vain for Mahtan. The swirling winds seemed to swallow him, and Rolo felt his heart sink as his friend's pleas swiftly fade away.
The stranger laughed cruelly. "Empty promise," he scoffed. "But do what you will. Just be mindful of the consequences of your actions: Should I not get what I want, the blood of your friend and of your compatriots will be on your hands. You see, I am the only one who can stop this plague."
The radiance surrounding the stranger then began to ebb, and soon, Rolo found himself alone in the clearing. He sank back despondently, not knowing what he would do next.