I'm sorry, but the books have too much time between Bilbo's farewell feast
and the time when Frodo actually leaves Bag End (during this time Aragorn
and Gandalf find Gollum, and lots of other important things happen), and I
could never hope to fill it all. So I'm going to have to do a little
time/event juggling, and mix some things up, so don't criticize me because
I've gotten the dates and chronological order wrong, I know it!
Also sorry that it took so ridiculously long for the chapter!
Oh, yah. The Disclaimer: Chapter VI: I made up Vicky/Iskalistari and Elizabeth/ Tarkiliend. All others are Tolkien's.
Chapter VI
Arrival of Istari
Gandalf walked from the woods of Lothlorien accompanied by Galadriel and Celeborn. He'd had an important meeting with them, and was on his way towards Rivendell where a companion was waiting for him. "Ride swiftly," Galadriel commanded, her dreamy voice seeming to gently waken everything of the earth so that it hummed and sang in its own language, "The Valar have not revealed to me how far he may have gotten, but he must be captured." "Yes," Gandalf answered, mounting a silver stallion, "I know not what mischief he may have already caused." And with that the Gray Pilgrim rode off.
He had not gone many miles, when suddenly he turned from his northern direction, and pivoted nearly 180 degrees. He muttered an angry word at his absentmindedness, and spurred on his stallion.
He returned to only a few meters from where he had begun, and looked about for someone. Galadriel and Celeborn had left, but a toffee-colored mare's lead was secured to the limb of a tree. "Thank you." Gandalf whispered into the wind, knowing that his thanks would somehow reach the leaders of Lorien. He walked into the forest, hoping that he would be able to find who he was looking for.
Vicky (I'll not bother to go through the whole 'she' thing, because Vicky is the only person who has not been spoken of) walked through the golden foliage of Lothlorien. She felt as though she should be waiting for someone, but she did not remember whom. Vicky crossed her arms, frowned, and leaned against a large tree, sighing out of frustration. Then she heard it. The sound of hooves on soft turf, and the slight tinkle of a bit against metal. She looked up and saw an elderly man. He looked old, but she guessed that he could muster some zip if need be. "Greetings, distant visitor." Gandalf smiled, stopping the stallion beside her, leading the toffee mare alongside him. "I am Gandalf." "Greetings." She replied, dropping to a curtsy. "Would you perhaps answer a few things for me as we ride?" Gandalf asked getting off the stallion, and leading the mare over to Vicky. Vicky shrugged, "I will if I can. I don't remember much." She dropped her eyes. Gandalf nodded, "The Valar warned me..." He murmured. "This is your mount." The mare tossed its head, ready to go. Vicky smiled. Though she did not remember much, Gandalf seemed to know exactly what must be done. She mounted the mare, and Gandalf the stallion, and together they rode off towards a destination known to only one of the two riders.
They road swift, and straight, plunging through any water that might be before the, and only stopping for rest when their mounts could bear them no further. Despite their hard riding, and the uneven terrain, neither of the horses went lame, nor did they stumble. Gandalf questioned Vicky often, and most of the questions were dull to listen to, and dull to answer, so I shan't relate them to you.
After the third day, Vicky could see a small river nearing. Though the weather was bitterly cold, the little water that there was in the stream trickled happily and unfrozen. "We are nearly at Rivendell." Gandalf smiled, hoping that his friend there had not yet left. Vicky nodded, though she had absolutely no idea what Rivendell was, and weather it was good or bad that they were nearly there. "Perhaps you would like a name." Gandalf chuckled as they galloped towards the Elven City. "Well, not that you think of it, yes." Vicky said wryly, and not bothering to hide how peeved she was. Gandalf laughed, "Yes, yes. I should have given you one earlier." He stroked his beard as they neared the river and their horses slowed into a canter. He muttered a bit of this and that in several tongues, tried a combination of them, but none seemed to do. Then he sat straight up in his saddle, "I have it!" He smiled, "Iskalistari! That shall be your name!" "Pale Istari..." Vicky murmured. "It's nice, but am I a wizard?" "Thus the Valar have ordained it." Gandalf replied, breaking his horse into a gallop again as they neared Rivendell.
--
The first thing Elizabeth saw when she woke up, was the stern face of Elrond, the Healer, looking down at her. His eyes were hard, but not angry. He looked at her like one might look at a naughty child who has done something wrong, but it too young to know. "Greetings, Tarkiliend," Elrond said smiling ever-so-slightly. "Tarkiliend...?" Elizabeth murmured only slightly confused, fondling the word, "Is that my name?" "Your are of the race of Nûmenor," Elrond replied, "And you are certainly a daughter, so 'Daughter of the Nûmenor' would fit you well enough." "But is it MY name?" Elizabeth insisted. Elrond was silent for a moment that seemed to last for a millennium, then slowly replied: "No, but it will serve." Elizabeth's face fell. "But you are among friends, and that cannot be said for many others." Elrond continued. Tarkiliend was silent, pondering something, then asked: "Where is the man that brought me here? Aragorn, son of Arathorn?" Elrond's face, that a moment ago had seemed almost young, suddenly became creased and tired. "He and Mithrandir have journeyed on beyond the borders of Rivendell, on to the Dead Marshes, and Iskalistari joins them." 'Dead Marshes'? It did not seem a fair place as decried by its name. "Why are they there?" Tarkiliend asked. "They are seeking a creature that may know something that must be kept from the Enemy." Elrond replied, his face seeming to grow ever older, and older.
--
"I don't suppose you could have found a more pleasant place to visit, oh, Gray Pilgrim?" Aragorn asked, wading through waist-high muck. "I didn't suppose you'd mind a bit of dirt," Gandalf replied, chuckling, then added slyly, "You seem to carry ample samples of it in your hair, on your clothes, and on your face." Aragorn scoffed, "Not much of a king yet, am I?" "You're a king?" Iskalistari asked in obvious wonder as she laboriously lifted one foot, then another in a desperate, though almost futile, attempt to move forwards and onwards. Aragorn was silent for a moment, almost as though he were hesitant to reply, but eventually found words and replied with a slow 'Yes' "Then why aren't you in a Throne Room on a velvet chair instead of in miles of muck?" Iskalistari asked, plopping another foot back into the sickening yellow-green goo as she took another step. Aragorn opened his mouth to reply, but just then Gandalf put out his staff, signaling them to stop, and stay silent. When everyone had suddenly stopped talking and walking, and were haunching down as far as they dare go, without getting their faces in the goo, Gandalf pointed out across the murky surface of the obviously unhealthy water with his staff. There on a rock lay a bedraggled creature that seemed more like dead bone and blood than a living creature. It was as thin as twigs, and the only way that they were sure that it was alive, was that its chest was rhythmically rising up and down. Its breathing was hoarse and raspy, and it was laid flat on its back, twigish limbs splayed, trying to absorb every bit of warmth from the rock that the rock might feel inclined to give. Iskalistari felt sorry for the poor thing, but sensed that it was their target. "On three," Aragorn murmured, keeping his voice low, "we will spring forth and capture it." The two wizards nodded as they prepared to pounce. "One...two...THREE!"
Oh, yah. The Disclaimer: Chapter VI: I made up Vicky/Iskalistari and Elizabeth/ Tarkiliend. All others are Tolkien's.
Chapter VI
Arrival of Istari
Gandalf walked from the woods of Lothlorien accompanied by Galadriel and Celeborn. He'd had an important meeting with them, and was on his way towards Rivendell where a companion was waiting for him. "Ride swiftly," Galadriel commanded, her dreamy voice seeming to gently waken everything of the earth so that it hummed and sang in its own language, "The Valar have not revealed to me how far he may have gotten, but he must be captured." "Yes," Gandalf answered, mounting a silver stallion, "I know not what mischief he may have already caused." And with that the Gray Pilgrim rode off.
He had not gone many miles, when suddenly he turned from his northern direction, and pivoted nearly 180 degrees. He muttered an angry word at his absentmindedness, and spurred on his stallion.
He returned to only a few meters from where he had begun, and looked about for someone. Galadriel and Celeborn had left, but a toffee-colored mare's lead was secured to the limb of a tree. "Thank you." Gandalf whispered into the wind, knowing that his thanks would somehow reach the leaders of Lorien. He walked into the forest, hoping that he would be able to find who he was looking for.
Vicky (I'll not bother to go through the whole 'she' thing, because Vicky is the only person who has not been spoken of) walked through the golden foliage of Lothlorien. She felt as though she should be waiting for someone, but she did not remember whom. Vicky crossed her arms, frowned, and leaned against a large tree, sighing out of frustration. Then she heard it. The sound of hooves on soft turf, and the slight tinkle of a bit against metal. She looked up and saw an elderly man. He looked old, but she guessed that he could muster some zip if need be. "Greetings, distant visitor." Gandalf smiled, stopping the stallion beside her, leading the toffee mare alongside him. "I am Gandalf." "Greetings." She replied, dropping to a curtsy. "Would you perhaps answer a few things for me as we ride?" Gandalf asked getting off the stallion, and leading the mare over to Vicky. Vicky shrugged, "I will if I can. I don't remember much." She dropped her eyes. Gandalf nodded, "The Valar warned me..." He murmured. "This is your mount." The mare tossed its head, ready to go. Vicky smiled. Though she did not remember much, Gandalf seemed to know exactly what must be done. She mounted the mare, and Gandalf the stallion, and together they rode off towards a destination known to only one of the two riders.
They road swift, and straight, plunging through any water that might be before the, and only stopping for rest when their mounts could bear them no further. Despite their hard riding, and the uneven terrain, neither of the horses went lame, nor did they stumble. Gandalf questioned Vicky often, and most of the questions were dull to listen to, and dull to answer, so I shan't relate them to you.
After the third day, Vicky could see a small river nearing. Though the weather was bitterly cold, the little water that there was in the stream trickled happily and unfrozen. "We are nearly at Rivendell." Gandalf smiled, hoping that his friend there had not yet left. Vicky nodded, though she had absolutely no idea what Rivendell was, and weather it was good or bad that they were nearly there. "Perhaps you would like a name." Gandalf chuckled as they galloped towards the Elven City. "Well, not that you think of it, yes." Vicky said wryly, and not bothering to hide how peeved she was. Gandalf laughed, "Yes, yes. I should have given you one earlier." He stroked his beard as they neared the river and their horses slowed into a canter. He muttered a bit of this and that in several tongues, tried a combination of them, but none seemed to do. Then he sat straight up in his saddle, "I have it!" He smiled, "Iskalistari! That shall be your name!" "Pale Istari..." Vicky murmured. "It's nice, but am I a wizard?" "Thus the Valar have ordained it." Gandalf replied, breaking his horse into a gallop again as they neared Rivendell.
--
The first thing Elizabeth saw when she woke up, was the stern face of Elrond, the Healer, looking down at her. His eyes were hard, but not angry. He looked at her like one might look at a naughty child who has done something wrong, but it too young to know. "Greetings, Tarkiliend," Elrond said smiling ever-so-slightly. "Tarkiliend...?" Elizabeth murmured only slightly confused, fondling the word, "Is that my name?" "Your are of the race of Nûmenor," Elrond replied, "And you are certainly a daughter, so 'Daughter of the Nûmenor' would fit you well enough." "But is it MY name?" Elizabeth insisted. Elrond was silent for a moment that seemed to last for a millennium, then slowly replied: "No, but it will serve." Elizabeth's face fell. "But you are among friends, and that cannot be said for many others." Elrond continued. Tarkiliend was silent, pondering something, then asked: "Where is the man that brought me here? Aragorn, son of Arathorn?" Elrond's face, that a moment ago had seemed almost young, suddenly became creased and tired. "He and Mithrandir have journeyed on beyond the borders of Rivendell, on to the Dead Marshes, and Iskalistari joins them." 'Dead Marshes'? It did not seem a fair place as decried by its name. "Why are they there?" Tarkiliend asked. "They are seeking a creature that may know something that must be kept from the Enemy." Elrond replied, his face seeming to grow ever older, and older.
--
"I don't suppose you could have found a more pleasant place to visit, oh, Gray Pilgrim?" Aragorn asked, wading through waist-high muck. "I didn't suppose you'd mind a bit of dirt," Gandalf replied, chuckling, then added slyly, "You seem to carry ample samples of it in your hair, on your clothes, and on your face." Aragorn scoffed, "Not much of a king yet, am I?" "You're a king?" Iskalistari asked in obvious wonder as she laboriously lifted one foot, then another in a desperate, though almost futile, attempt to move forwards and onwards. Aragorn was silent for a moment, almost as though he were hesitant to reply, but eventually found words and replied with a slow 'Yes' "Then why aren't you in a Throne Room on a velvet chair instead of in miles of muck?" Iskalistari asked, plopping another foot back into the sickening yellow-green goo as she took another step. Aragorn opened his mouth to reply, but just then Gandalf put out his staff, signaling them to stop, and stay silent. When everyone had suddenly stopped talking and walking, and were haunching down as far as they dare go, without getting their faces in the goo, Gandalf pointed out across the murky surface of the obviously unhealthy water with his staff. There on a rock lay a bedraggled creature that seemed more like dead bone and blood than a living creature. It was as thin as twigs, and the only way that they were sure that it was alive, was that its chest was rhythmically rising up and down. Its breathing was hoarse and raspy, and it was laid flat on its back, twigish limbs splayed, trying to absorb every bit of warmth from the rock that the rock might feel inclined to give. Iskalistari felt sorry for the poor thing, but sensed that it was their target. "On three," Aragorn murmured, keeping his voice low, "we will spring forth and capture it." The two wizards nodded as they prepared to pounce. "One...two...THREE!"