Disclaimer: All Star Trek related characters belongs to Paramount; all Lord
of the Rings related characters belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. I am merely
borrowing them.
Author's Note: Wow, I have smart readers! You guys rock!
*******************
THE SHADOW RIDERS
Chapter Ten: The Black Wizard
Out of doubt, out of dark, to the day's rising He rode singing in the sun, sword unsheathing. Hope he rekindled, and in hope ended; Over death, over dread, over doom lifted Out of loss, out of life, unto long glory. ~J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
*******************
He felt... different.
Not a bad difference, really. Just strange. He remembered things which he had never seen... in his mind's eye he saw light, brilliant and glorious; he heard song which echoed throughout the ages of the earth, pure and holy and good. He felt warmth and kindness, and wonder.
But there was also darkness and discord. The harmony broke and yet curiously it still weaved in and out of the first song, a kind of grim counterpoint to the older harmony which lent an air of shadow to the whole train of the music. He shuddered to hear it, covering his ears, and closed his eyes against the visible darkness. But an ear covered still hears muffled song, and an eye closed sees nothing at all but darkness.
So he looked away, where the sky shone blue, untainted by heavy cloud and unending darkness, and knew that he could not ignore it, for the darkness still lurked even if he could not see it.
In his right hand he held a long, midnight-black staff with a gleaming round knob at the very end of it, slightly flattened like the prow of a certain ship. Of this he approved. The heavy chain mail of the night's battle had vanished; in its place were soft, comfortable leggings, tunic, and cloak, all of the deepest black.
He stood and waited, leaning against the ebony staff, until a gleaming figure clad all in white climbed the steps to the keep, and nodded solemnly in greeting.
Gandalf's face showed no surprise; rather, he smiled gently and gripped Malcolm's shoulder. "Welcome, brother," he said in the most ancient of tongues, which no Elf, Man, or Dwarf has ever spoken or ever will. "Tórdilthen, you are welcomed and celebrated, in this time to whence you have come."
"Yet it is but for a short time I come, Olórin," said Malcolm, though he knew not how he knew this. "I am from two worlds, made as one for the sake of both. Elowë you knew me as old, as Malcolm they know me now, and we have become one from two."
"Trusted page to Eönwë the Herald," murmured Gandalf. "Fitting, for the warrior spirit rides within you both. Your aid is greatly welcomed. I fear these Men, brave as they are, fight a losing battle. All our hopes rest with one small hobbit carrying a burden greater than he should be able to bear."
"And yet he bears it," said Malcolm, seeing in his mind's eye a clear-eyed young hobbit with dark curls and an innocent, wondering expression. Frodo Baggins---one who should never have been called upon to do so great and terrible a deed, and one who bore it with patient steadfastness. He knew him only through what Gandalf put into his mind, but nonetheless he saw the other Istari's admiration of the gentle young hobbit and understood some part of it. He met Gandalf's eyes and felt the worry in the old wizard's mind. He saw the peaceful Shire in his mind's eye, though he himself had not been there.
It was very strange---part of him knew every inch of this world, every forest and glade, every stream and sea, and another part of him saw it through completely inexperienced eyes. His task would require both sides of the separate entities, knowledge of the past and knowledge of the far future. He knew this, though he knew not what his task was quite yet. Not entirely, anyway. Mere shadows had been revealed to him, possibilities and reflections and no more.
He could have stayed with Archer. He had the power to do so, if he chose. But he would not do that. Not yet. Not while Hoshi remained, for she played a great part in his coming task.
"The Enemy grows stronger," said Gandalf suddenly, looking out towards the eastern sky. "And your friend has gone to him."
Malcolm cast out with his mind and found that she was no longer in Helm's Deep. Her lethargy, her odd behavior, everything made sense suddenly. "I should have seen it earlier," he said fiercely, eyes widening with realization. "Saruman! Her mind was troubled by thoughts of her own world. Easy for him to reach in and take what he wanted, with her defenses weakened as such."
"Saruman is no longer a threat," said Gandalf, his eyes glittering. "Saruman has been overthrown this night, by Men here and by the Ents at Isengard. No, Hoshi is a danger to us on a far greater plane now. She goes to Sauron, tórdilthen. He has seen in her mind what I saw in yours at our first meeting---great ships which fly through space, and machines capable of wondrous things. Machines which do not work through spells and power but clever manipulation of natural things."
"What can he do with such knowledge?" Malcolm replied. "He has nothing to make it with, no technology to create ships and transporters and phase cannons."
"I cannot see his purpose," said Gandalf. "The mind of Sauron is strong, and he hides it well. Only through the palantiri might I try such a thing, but I fear even I should not be able to see his plan and lose my own mind in the attempt." His frown deepened, and for a long moment they stood in silence. The sun drew higher in the sky, and golden beams lit up Gandalf's long white beard and hair, shining silver like precious mithril. Malcolm's dark robes fluttered in the wind, shadows deepening among the folds of the cloth. "I am sorry, Elowë," said Gandalf after a time, gripping the younger Istari's shoulder with one strong hand. "You have come into a time of strife. There is much in this world I would have you see and experience, but for now there is no time for such things."
"I will see them when this is done," replied Malcolm softly, his head bowed. "We shall all see wondrous things when the darkness passes." He gripped his staff and thought of Hoshi, somewhere off in the eastern wilderness, and a surge of anger flowed through him. What could Sauron want with the kind, gentle Hoshi?
Gently Gandalf tapped his shoulder, and they walked together down the steps of Helm's Deep, out to the gate where Théoden, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli all stood together just inside the gate, surveying the damage. To Malcolm's surprise and pleasure, Éomer stood with them, face grim as he looked at the shattered, splintered wood. At their approach he turned around, still grim until his eyes lit upon Malcolm and he nodded with a smile. Coming forward, he gripped Malcolm's forearm and then drew him into a bear hug, clapping the smaller man on the back. "You have done well, my friend," he said. "Wormtongue flees and Éowyn is well. Honor to you, Malcolm Reed, and my gratitude."
"I had very little to do with Wormtongue," Malcolm told him, grinning back. "Thank Gandalf for that deed, for it was Saruman himself who controlled Rohan, and none other could have driven him out."
The grin faded from his face as he looked away from Éomer to the startled expressions of the others. Aragorn in particular beheld him with a stare of pure shock. "I believed you to be dead, Malcolm," he said in amazement. "I closed your eyes myself. And yet here you stand!"
"What has happened?" cried Théoden. "You, a stranger and no valuable warrior, alive when hundreds of my good riders lie dead on the battlefield? I saw you die!"
"And if it had not been for him, my lord, you would be dead right now," snapped Gandalf. "It is not for you to question the ways of the Valar! Give welcome to the newest of the Istari and be glad of his aid, for we will need it before the end. Do you want the world of Men to fall, Théoden king? Then why do you fight? Better to merely step back and let Sauron cover all the lands of Middle-earth with darkness and death!"
Théoden glared, but he said nothing.
Legolas said, "Welcome, Malcolm of the Istari," and bowed elegantly.
Gimli, not to be outdone, clapped him hard on the arm and said, "Glad to have you, lad! Glad to have you before and even more so now!"
Malcolm, smiling back, caught the gaze of the elder wizard. Gandalf's eyes twinkled, and he gently winked at the youngest of the Istari. "You are truly a part of this world now," said Aragorn, with a nod and a smile.
And Malcom, thinking of the look in Archer and Trip's eyes when he had walked away from them, wondered at the circumstance, and said no more as the talk turned to the gate and the odd forest of trees that had sprung up outside the valley overnight. He was of this world, he thought, but he was also of the other.
In the back of his mind, the Malcolm-knowledge and the Elowë-knowledge mingled, yet still he knew when this was all over, he must choose the world in which to stay. But which to choose...
*********************
Tórdilthen: little brother (Please correct my Elvish if it is wrong.) Olórin: Gandalf's first name, when he was a Maia spirit. The Maiar are lesser spirits of the Ainur, servants of the Valar. Elowë is completely my invention. Eönwë the Herald: mightiest of the Maiar, servant to Manwë the Wind Lord. His strength in battle equals even the Valar.
Sorry this is a bit short. This was a very hard chapter to write. I skimmed the Simarillion for the information I need, as well as Tolkien: The Illustrated Encyclopedia, but I am not very well versed in much beyond the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings. If anything is incorrect, please let me know.
Author's Note: Wow, I have smart readers! You guys rock!
*******************
THE SHADOW RIDERS
Chapter Ten: The Black Wizard
Out of doubt, out of dark, to the day's rising He rode singing in the sun, sword unsheathing. Hope he rekindled, and in hope ended; Over death, over dread, over doom lifted Out of loss, out of life, unto long glory. ~J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
*******************
He felt... different.
Not a bad difference, really. Just strange. He remembered things which he had never seen... in his mind's eye he saw light, brilliant and glorious; he heard song which echoed throughout the ages of the earth, pure and holy and good. He felt warmth and kindness, and wonder.
But there was also darkness and discord. The harmony broke and yet curiously it still weaved in and out of the first song, a kind of grim counterpoint to the older harmony which lent an air of shadow to the whole train of the music. He shuddered to hear it, covering his ears, and closed his eyes against the visible darkness. But an ear covered still hears muffled song, and an eye closed sees nothing at all but darkness.
So he looked away, where the sky shone blue, untainted by heavy cloud and unending darkness, and knew that he could not ignore it, for the darkness still lurked even if he could not see it.
In his right hand he held a long, midnight-black staff with a gleaming round knob at the very end of it, slightly flattened like the prow of a certain ship. Of this he approved. The heavy chain mail of the night's battle had vanished; in its place were soft, comfortable leggings, tunic, and cloak, all of the deepest black.
He stood and waited, leaning against the ebony staff, until a gleaming figure clad all in white climbed the steps to the keep, and nodded solemnly in greeting.
Gandalf's face showed no surprise; rather, he smiled gently and gripped Malcolm's shoulder. "Welcome, brother," he said in the most ancient of tongues, which no Elf, Man, or Dwarf has ever spoken or ever will. "Tórdilthen, you are welcomed and celebrated, in this time to whence you have come."
"Yet it is but for a short time I come, Olórin," said Malcolm, though he knew not how he knew this. "I am from two worlds, made as one for the sake of both. Elowë you knew me as old, as Malcolm they know me now, and we have become one from two."
"Trusted page to Eönwë the Herald," murmured Gandalf. "Fitting, for the warrior spirit rides within you both. Your aid is greatly welcomed. I fear these Men, brave as they are, fight a losing battle. All our hopes rest with one small hobbit carrying a burden greater than he should be able to bear."
"And yet he bears it," said Malcolm, seeing in his mind's eye a clear-eyed young hobbit with dark curls and an innocent, wondering expression. Frodo Baggins---one who should never have been called upon to do so great and terrible a deed, and one who bore it with patient steadfastness. He knew him only through what Gandalf put into his mind, but nonetheless he saw the other Istari's admiration of the gentle young hobbit and understood some part of it. He met Gandalf's eyes and felt the worry in the old wizard's mind. He saw the peaceful Shire in his mind's eye, though he himself had not been there.
It was very strange---part of him knew every inch of this world, every forest and glade, every stream and sea, and another part of him saw it through completely inexperienced eyes. His task would require both sides of the separate entities, knowledge of the past and knowledge of the far future. He knew this, though he knew not what his task was quite yet. Not entirely, anyway. Mere shadows had been revealed to him, possibilities and reflections and no more.
He could have stayed with Archer. He had the power to do so, if he chose. But he would not do that. Not yet. Not while Hoshi remained, for she played a great part in his coming task.
"The Enemy grows stronger," said Gandalf suddenly, looking out towards the eastern sky. "And your friend has gone to him."
Malcolm cast out with his mind and found that she was no longer in Helm's Deep. Her lethargy, her odd behavior, everything made sense suddenly. "I should have seen it earlier," he said fiercely, eyes widening with realization. "Saruman! Her mind was troubled by thoughts of her own world. Easy for him to reach in and take what he wanted, with her defenses weakened as such."
"Saruman is no longer a threat," said Gandalf, his eyes glittering. "Saruman has been overthrown this night, by Men here and by the Ents at Isengard. No, Hoshi is a danger to us on a far greater plane now. She goes to Sauron, tórdilthen. He has seen in her mind what I saw in yours at our first meeting---great ships which fly through space, and machines capable of wondrous things. Machines which do not work through spells and power but clever manipulation of natural things."
"What can he do with such knowledge?" Malcolm replied. "He has nothing to make it with, no technology to create ships and transporters and phase cannons."
"I cannot see his purpose," said Gandalf. "The mind of Sauron is strong, and he hides it well. Only through the palantiri might I try such a thing, but I fear even I should not be able to see his plan and lose my own mind in the attempt." His frown deepened, and for a long moment they stood in silence. The sun drew higher in the sky, and golden beams lit up Gandalf's long white beard and hair, shining silver like precious mithril. Malcolm's dark robes fluttered in the wind, shadows deepening among the folds of the cloth. "I am sorry, Elowë," said Gandalf after a time, gripping the younger Istari's shoulder with one strong hand. "You have come into a time of strife. There is much in this world I would have you see and experience, but for now there is no time for such things."
"I will see them when this is done," replied Malcolm softly, his head bowed. "We shall all see wondrous things when the darkness passes." He gripped his staff and thought of Hoshi, somewhere off in the eastern wilderness, and a surge of anger flowed through him. What could Sauron want with the kind, gentle Hoshi?
Gently Gandalf tapped his shoulder, and they walked together down the steps of Helm's Deep, out to the gate where Théoden, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli all stood together just inside the gate, surveying the damage. To Malcolm's surprise and pleasure, Éomer stood with them, face grim as he looked at the shattered, splintered wood. At their approach he turned around, still grim until his eyes lit upon Malcolm and he nodded with a smile. Coming forward, he gripped Malcolm's forearm and then drew him into a bear hug, clapping the smaller man on the back. "You have done well, my friend," he said. "Wormtongue flees and Éowyn is well. Honor to you, Malcolm Reed, and my gratitude."
"I had very little to do with Wormtongue," Malcolm told him, grinning back. "Thank Gandalf for that deed, for it was Saruman himself who controlled Rohan, and none other could have driven him out."
The grin faded from his face as he looked away from Éomer to the startled expressions of the others. Aragorn in particular beheld him with a stare of pure shock. "I believed you to be dead, Malcolm," he said in amazement. "I closed your eyes myself. And yet here you stand!"
"What has happened?" cried Théoden. "You, a stranger and no valuable warrior, alive when hundreds of my good riders lie dead on the battlefield? I saw you die!"
"And if it had not been for him, my lord, you would be dead right now," snapped Gandalf. "It is not for you to question the ways of the Valar! Give welcome to the newest of the Istari and be glad of his aid, for we will need it before the end. Do you want the world of Men to fall, Théoden king? Then why do you fight? Better to merely step back and let Sauron cover all the lands of Middle-earth with darkness and death!"
Théoden glared, but he said nothing.
Legolas said, "Welcome, Malcolm of the Istari," and bowed elegantly.
Gimli, not to be outdone, clapped him hard on the arm and said, "Glad to have you, lad! Glad to have you before and even more so now!"
Malcolm, smiling back, caught the gaze of the elder wizard. Gandalf's eyes twinkled, and he gently winked at the youngest of the Istari. "You are truly a part of this world now," said Aragorn, with a nod and a smile.
And Malcom, thinking of the look in Archer and Trip's eyes when he had walked away from them, wondered at the circumstance, and said no more as the talk turned to the gate and the odd forest of trees that had sprung up outside the valley overnight. He was of this world, he thought, but he was also of the other.
In the back of his mind, the Malcolm-knowledge and the Elowë-knowledge mingled, yet still he knew when this was all over, he must choose the world in which to stay. But which to choose...
*********************
Tórdilthen: little brother (Please correct my Elvish if it is wrong.) Olórin: Gandalf's first name, when he was a Maia spirit. The Maiar are lesser spirits of the Ainur, servants of the Valar. Elowë is completely my invention. Eönwë the Herald: mightiest of the Maiar, servant to Manwë the Wind Lord. His strength in battle equals even the Valar.
Sorry this is a bit short. This was a very hard chapter to write. I skimmed the Simarillion for the information I need, as well as Tolkien: The Illustrated Encyclopedia, but I am not very well versed in much beyond the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings. If anything is incorrect, please let me know.