Chapter XIII: Ghosts Return

Frodo and Merida were on the verge of falling asleep under the clouded night sky. The latter watched the former's crystal blue eyes drift closed into a light fitful sleep, the Ring clutched firmly in his hand. She listened to his breathing slowly ease and become steadier and watched his chest rise and fall. She'd probably have rested her head there if she were less inhibited.

She instead lay awake for what seemed like hours staring at the dark sky. However, it wasn't long before she began to hear what sounded like disembodied wind chimes singing a soft, eerie song while swaying gently in the breeze mingled with quiet, unintelligible whispers. It wasn't long before she heard an unmistakable, high-pitched sigh.

"Oooooh... Heeeee..."

She rose to a seated position and saw a white, somewhat amorphous will-o-the-wisp hovering over a nearby rock. For a few moments, it remained there, as though unsure of what it should do as Merida stared at it in awe. Her mother had once told her that will-o-the-wisps would lead whoever followed them to his or her fate.

The wisp slowly floated towards her until it was hovering over her lap. Merida placed the palm of her hand beneath it as tendrils began to materialize all around it, forming... branches and roots? Suddenly seven little lights, like stars, floated above it. Merida watched in awe, unaware that Frodo began to stir.

He slowly rose, not entirely registering what was happening before him until he was completely awake. His eyes suddenly widened in horror. The only wisps he knew of were those that lived in the Dead Marshes. It seemed that their sole purpose was to drag their helpless victims into their murky depths.

Frodo rose to his knees, then his feet, as he slowly drew out Sting.

Merida was startled out of her trance when the wisp glanced to its right and suddenly flew out of her hand. Seconds later, it was floating inches from Frodo's face before slowly backing away to a normal distance. Their eyes did not leave it even once as it discarded its tree shape and reverted to an amorphous mass of soft light once more, growing larger and larger until it began to take on the shape of a man. Details and features slowly began to materialize until the ghostly figure was unbelievably recognizable to Frodo.

"B-Boromir...?!"

The ghost looked at Frodo solemnly, as if he were about to give a formal apology. In a way, he was.

"Yes, it is I - at least, what remains of him."

Merida quietly gasped and placed her hand over her mouth, despite the fact that this was the first time she actually saw him. A similar expression of shock was plastered on Frodo's face as well.

"What remains of him...?! That would mean that you're dead! How?!"

"I was slain by a pack of orcs after you left."

Boromir paused before continuing.

"But it matters not. The last time I saw you when I was alive, I tried to claim the Ring. I betrayed you, Frodo. I offer you my service as a form of reparation. I shall not rest until my debt is paid."

Frodo looked up at him, stunned. Boromir and Merida could both tell that he was silently reliving the last time he saw Boromir alive.

"This is my first command," he finally stammered, his shaking voice detracting from the authority of his words. "What fate have the others met?"

"Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli are alive and well. They've set out to rescue your friends."

"Rescue? What's happened to them?"

"They were captured by orcs. I died trying to fend off those filthy creatures while Sam, Merry, and Pippin were distracting the enemy. The orcs think that one of them has the Ring."

Frodo's eyes were now glued to the ghostly figure and wide open. His bottom lip quivered. His breath was quite audible.

"A-are they all right?"

His eyes began to glisten with tears.

"I do not know- though I hope as much as you do that it is so," Boromir responded. "I'm so sorry, Frodo. I'm sorry for them, for you - and for my last words and deeds to you when I was alive."

"Very well," Frodo said, holding back the tears. "I accept. Thank you."

Boromir gave a small, sad smile to both him and Merida before vanishing back into the form of a white will-o-the-wisp. He floated into Merida's bag without another word.

Frodo raised his gaze to the sky, his face as tragic and serene as a beautiful statue in a tomb. The tears finally rolled down streamed down his face. It wasn't long before the sting of tears came to Merida's eyes as she watched him. She couldn't hold it back. She rushed to his side and buried her face into his shoulder as he slowly wove his fingers into her hair.

...

Aragorn was the first to enter the dense forest of Fangorn. Legolas and Gimli quickly followed, as did Fergus.

They rushed in, only stopping when they noticed strange tracks in the ground. Gimli plucked a black-stained leaf from a bush and promptly took it to his mouth. He spat whatever he tasted right out as soon as it reached his taste buds.

"Ptui! Orc blood!"

"These are strange tracks," Aragorn observed, apparently taking no heed to Gimli.

"The forest is old," Legolas suddenly stated, his eyes staring off into the forest-filled space around him. "Very old. Full of memory... and anger."

"What does that even mean?" Fergus asked, genuinely confused.

Alarmingly audible groans could be heard throughout the forest. The very hairs on the back of Fergus' neck stood on end, as did those on Gimli's. The latter instinctively raised his axe.

"The trees are speaking to each other..." Legolas continued.

"What?!" Fergus spat.

"Gimli!" Aragorn whispered.

"Huh?"

"Lower your axe."

Aragorn's eyes shifted to Fergus, who had followed Gimli's suit with his sword.

"Same goes for you, Fergus."

Fergus followed Aragorn's instructions, slowly lowering his sword.

Legolas turned to him soon after.

"Aragorn, nad nâ ennas!"

(Aragorn, something's out there!)

"Man cenich?" (What do you see?)

"The White Wizard approaches."

If there weren't chills down Fergus' spine already, there certainly were now.

"Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us," Aragorn stated as he grasped his hilt. Gimli did the same with his axes, and Fergus with his sword. Legolas notched an arrow into his bow. All were ready to strike.

"We must be quick."

Gimli and Fergus let out a battle cry as they both threw their weapons at the obscure glowing figure of the White Wizard. Legolas shot an arrow in his direction. All three of their attacks were promptly deflected, sending their weapons flying off into the forest. Aragorn's sword turned red hot in his hands before he could strike, sending it clattering to the ground. A deep, authoritative voice emanated from their bright target.

"You are tracking the footsteps of three young hobbits."

"Where are they?!" Aragorn demanded.

"They passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

"Who are you?" Aragorn asked. "Show yourself!"

The bright white light faded back, revealing a man in dressed entirely in white. His straight, clean hair and beard matched his robes and framed his wizened face.

An elegantly carved wooden staff rested in his hands, which was that same pure hue.

The faces of Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn morphed into expressions of awe. Fergus' eyes widened in confusion as he looked around him and saw the elf and the dwarf fall on one knee in reverence.

"It cannot be," Aragorn whispered, who was still standing. "

"What is in the name of Eru this?!" Fergus exclaimed. "Is this man not Saruman?!"

Gimli briefly glared up at him. His response was barely above a grumble.

"No, you dolt."

"Forgive me," Legolas said. "We mistook you for him."

"I am Saruman," the wizard replied. "Or rather, Saruman as he should have been."

"You fell...!" Aragorn remarked.

"Through fire... and water."

"From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth," the wizard continued. "Until at last I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time... Stars wheeled overhead, and every day was as long as a life age of the Earth... but it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I've been sent back, until my task is done."

Aragorn stared in awe, riveted by the wizard's account.

"Gandalf...!"

"Gandalf?"

The wizard seemed confused, as though he were called the wrong name. The expression faded as quickly as it came. It seemed as though he now remembered.

"Yes, that was what they used to call me... Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."

He smiled, as though a fond memory had entered his mind.

An even wider one crossed Gimli's face.

"Gandalf!"

A twinkle in glimmered in Gandalf's eyes.

"I am Gandalf the White... and I come to you now at the turn of the tide."

His gaze suddenly shifted to Fergus.

"Who is this?"

Fergus cleared his throat.

"Fergus. Fergus of Dunland."

"Dunland?"

The puzzled look returned to Gandalf's face.

"And yet you stand here with Gimli, son of Gloìn, Legolas, son of Thranduil, and Aragorn, son of Arathorn?"

"It appears so. I am a friend to Théoden of Rohan - though, admittedly, an unlikely one."

"Ah, I see," Gandalf responded. His face suddenly turned grimmer. "It would grieve you then, to learn that he has been enslaved by Saruman."

"Enslaved?! How?! What's happened to his family - his people?!"

"Saruman has taken hold over his mind. I am afraid that he is not the man you knew him to be."

Fergus let out a quiet gasp. Gandalf maintained his gaze, his eyes full of sympathy.

"I am sorry."

Aragorn reverently handed Gandalf a spare cloak, who promptly draped it over his shoulders.

"We will do the best we can to save him," the wizard reassured. "But now is not the time to grieve."

"One stage of your journey is over, another begins. We must travel to Edoras with all speed."

"Edoras?" Gimli repeated. "That is no short distance!"

"We heard of the trouble in Rohan before Fergus arrived. Éomer has been exiled," Aragorn stated.

"Yes. A sickness lies on the king's mind that will not be easily cured," replied Gandalf. His comment was enough to send Gimli ranting.

"Then we have come all this way for nothing! Are we to leave those poor hobbits in this horrid, dark, dank, tree infested-"

His diatribe was cut off by the loud groaning of the trees.

"I mean - charming! Quite charming...forest!"

"It was more than mere chance that brought Merry, Pippin, and Sam to Fangorn. A great power has been sleeping here for many long years. The coming of Merry, Pippin, and Sam will be like the falling of stones that starts an avalanche in the mountains."

"In one thing, you have not changed, dear friend," remarked Aragorn. Gandalf leaned in out of curiosity. "You still speak in riddles."

Gandalf chuckled mirthfully at his comment.

"A thing is about to happen that has not happened since the elder days," the wizard continued. "The Ents are going to wake up... and find that they are strong."

Gimli's eyes darted around the forest. "Strong?"

The forest groaned at him in response.

"Well, that's good," the dwarf said nervously. Gandalf was quick to scold him.

"So stop your fretting, Master Dwarf! Merry, Pippin and Sam are quite safe. In fact, they are far safer than you are about to be!"

Gimli couldn't help grumbling under his breath.

"This new Gandalf's grumpier than the old one!"

A/N: Happy Gondorian New Year, everyone! Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews and Support! :)