A/N: If any of you remember the original chapter four….. I am SOOOOOO sorry. It was a monstrosity. The horror. This replacement will hopefully rectify it.
~I want you to know one thing. You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me. Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me, I shall stop loving you little by little. If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you. If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land. But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness, if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah, my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine~
The sounds of metal clanking rose high up into the air, where Gandalf was still imprisoned, on the pinnacle of the tower. The forges spewed smoke into the sky, and the echo of the blacksmiths continued through the night. A headache squeezed tightly at Gandalf's thoughts, his body aching from injuries, the cold, and even hungar. The days had melded together, and he worried for the hobbits.
In the distance, a a pale moth struggled against the tearing wind until it reached Gandalf and fluttered about him. He reached forward, capturing it within his fingers like a cage. The moth's panic was short lived. It beat its wings silently listening to Gandalf's whispered words, "Gwaihir. Go, Gwaihir."
He watched silently and the moth flew away. Hope. Gandalf could only guess what Saruman planned to do with him, but it no longer mattered. Gandalf was void of fear when he felt the other wizard's presence. The magic wrapped around him, dragging him across the stone tower. Gandalf could feel the air beneath him as he hung precariously over the edge, the only thing keeping him from falling was Saruman's will.
"Friendship with Saruman is not lightly thrown aside. One ill turn deserves another. It is over! Embrace the power of the Ring… or embrace your own destruction!"
Gandalf could feel the magic hold on him waver as Saruman toyed with the idea of dropping him over the edge. It was then that a pale moth flew between the two wizards, catching Gandalf's attention as Saruman continued to taunt him. He hurled Gandalf back towards the platform, but Gandalf collided with the cold tower he felt no pain. He knew freedom was at hand. Slowly, he rose to his feet as the shadowy figure of an eagle appeared in the distance.
"There is only one Lord of the Ring!" Gandalf shouted at the man he once called friend. "Only one who can bend it to his will. And he… does… not… share… power!" The sound of the Eagle's screech echoed across the expanse of Isengard. Gandalf lept off the tower of Orthanc and landed on the eagle's back.
"So, you have chosen...death." Saruman said into the distance.
Gwaithir flew over the mountains, bearing Gandalf to safety, though Gandalf did not feel relief until he reached Rivendell and learned of the hobbit's safety.
XXX
"Where am I?" Frodo asked, before even opening his eyes.
Gandalf smiled, he's finally awake. "You are in the house of Elrond. And it's ten o'clock in the morning, on October the twenty-fourth, if you want to know."
He was seated next to Frodo's bed, smoking his pipe. The bedroom opened out into a beautiful garden, where you could hear the sound of trickling water mix with the song of the birds. Behind them leaves were gently falling, "Gandalf!" Frodo said, sitting up.
"Yes… I'm here. And you're lucky to be here, too. A few more hours and you would have been beyond our aid. But you have some strength in you, my dear hobbit!" Strength indeed. It was moments like these when Gandalf was reminded of Bilbo and the adventures they'd shared. Hobbits, for all that was said about them, truly were strong. They had a strength of character that was not even found amongst the highest of men. And they amused him.
"What happened, Gandalf? Why didn't you meet us?"
"Oh, I'm sorry Frodo" Gandalf said mildly, his mind threatened by memories that he did not wish to relive. "I was delayed." A grim expression overtook Gandalf's features, and he let a silence settle between them. Frodo was quick to break it.
"Gandalf? What is it?" Frodo asked, voice full of concern.
"Nothing, Frodo."
There was no need to scare him. Saruman was not Frodo's problem, and the hobbit did not need any more worries placed upon his small shoulders. Sam entered the room and rushed to Frodo's side, clasping his hand in joy.
"Frodo! Frodo!"
"Sam!"
"Bless you, you're awake!" Sam cried.
Frodo laughed and Gandalf smiled at the scene before him, "Sam has hardly left your side."
"We were that worried about you, weren't we Mister Gandalf?"
"By the skills of Lord Elrond, you're beginning to mend." Gandalf said, sensing that Elrond had entered the room.
"Welcome to Rivendell, Frodo Baggins."
XXX
Gandalf watched Frodo and Sam from the balcony in Elrond's study.
"His strength returns," Elrond noted.
"That wound will never fully heal. He will carry it the rest of his life." Gandalf said, his voice full of regret, I should have been there to protect him.
"And yet to have come so far, still bearing the Ring, the hobbit has shown extraordinary resilience to its evil." Elrond said as an observation rather than a response to Gandalf's words.
"It is a burden he should never have had to bear. We can ask no more of Frodo." Gandalf said, warning Elrond that he would not stand for him forcing Frodo to go any further.
"Gandalf, the enemy is moving. Sauron's forces are massing in the east — his eye is fixed on Rivendell. And Saruman you tell me has betrayed us. Our list of allies grows thin."
"His treachery runs deeper than you know. By foul craft Saruman has crossed Orcs with goblin-men, he's breeding an army in the caverns of Isengard. An army that can move in sunlight and cover great distance at speed. Saruman is coming for the Ring."
"This evil cannot be concealed by the power of the Elves. We do not have the strength to fight both Mordor and Isengard!"
Gandalf moved away, deep in thought.
"Gandalf, the Ring cannot stay here." Gandalf stands at the window and sees a group of new arrivals in the garden. A man, an elf and companions, and a group of dwarves all dismount and stare around in wonder. "This peril belongs to all Middle-Earth. They must decide now how to end it. The time of the Elves is over — my people are leaving these shores. Who will you look to when we've gone? The Dwarves? They hide in their mountains seeking riches — they care nothing for the troubles of others."
Gandalf thought for a moment, "It is in Men that we must place our hope." he said, sitting.
"Men?" Elrond said doubtfully, "Men are weak."
Elrond walked through his house and Gandalf followed listening intently.
"The race of Men is failing. The blood of Númenor is all but spent, its pride and dignity forgotten. It is because of Men the Ring survives. I was there Gandalf. I was there three thousand years ago…" Elrond lost himself in his memories as he told Gandalf of what he had witnessed. "It should've ended that day, but evil was allowed to endure." Elrond paused, breathing deeply, "Isildur kept the Ring. The line of kings is broken. There is no strength left in the world of Men. They're scattered, divided, leaderless."
Gandalf stood taller, "There is one who could unite them, one who could reclaim the throne of Gondor."
Elrond turned away, dismissively, "He turned from that path long time ago. He has chosen exile."
When Gandalf turned to leave Elrond stopped him, "There is another matter with which I must speak to you." Gandalf turned towards him, curious.
"And what is that?"
"A girl, she goes by the name 'Rosa', she is part Elf, but the other part is not of this world." Elrond had fully captured Gandalf's attention. Not of this world? That is interesting.
XXX
Gandalf made his way to the great hall, amazed and concerned with all that he had spoke of with Elrond. A woman from another world, yet she is part Elf, which means she must be from this world. Gandalf tried to think of any scriptures he had read containing any information similar or any prophecies concerning the woman Elrond had described. When he entered the great hall he saw the girl, Rosa, sitting next to Aragorn. He watched her stand and walk in his direction.
"May I get you alone for a few moments?" he asked.
He watched a sly smile creep across her lips, "Well, you'll have to buy me dinner first." She laughed at her own joke and Gandalf found himself vaguely amused, from a different world indeed, he thought. He smiled slightly, "I have a few questions for you."
"Onward then." she smiled and he lead her away from the crowded room.
"So, fire away," Rosa said.
Gandalf shifted through the many questions he had, deciding upon the most important one, "Elrond spoke with me about your particular ancestry, but he didn't mention one thing. Who are your parents? Do you know which was an elf?"
"That is a fantastic question. One that I do not know the answer to." she gestured to the hall and started walking, Gandalf followed, curious. She lead them to her room where she opened the door and walked in, Gandalf stood by the doorway, waiting patiently.
"Oh come on, I'm trying to show you something not seduce you. What is it with you people?" she shook her head, "Bunch of prudes," she muttered.
Gandalf chuckled, "I had no such thoughts, merely trying to be courteous. In this land, one waits for permission before entering."
Rosa blushed, "Oh...well, come in."
"Though, you'll find, we are as you put it, a 'bunch of prudes'. I take it that means your people are more relaxed with matters involving courting." Gandalf could she her trying to hold back a laugh.
"Courting," she breathed, "Yes, you could say that." she said chuckling. She turned away and got on her knees pulling a bag out from underneath her bed. Rosa placed the bag on the bed and stood, she reached into the bag and pulled out the book that she had retrieved from the library.
"I've never known who my parents are, and this," she said, handing the book and the notes to Gandalf, "is all I know about that...stuff that Elrond was talking about," Rosa said gesturing wildly with her hands. "I don't know how it works, much less what it means, but when I read that note," she pointed to it, "the words started glowing and I landed in a forest. That's when I met Aragorn and then we met up with the hobbits, then traveled through the forest and Frodo got stabbed and Arwen used her elf mojo to help him and then this other guy came back with horses and brought us to Rivendell and I found out that guy was Legolas, and boy was that embarrassing, and then Elrond told me all about me being a half elf and then you wanted to ask me questions, so here we are! Ta dah!" She said, taking a deep breath.
Gandalf nodded, he looked down at the note. "This is elvish," he said looking over all the things she had given him. They sat on the bed and Gandalf flipped through the first couple pages.
Rosa stared at him, scooting closer and looking at the pages herself. "So..." she paused looking up at Gandalf. "What does it mean?"
Gandalf met her gaze, "I am not completely certain at this moment, but I have a feeling that it will explain how you were transported here. It will require a great deal of studying before I am able to tell you what exactly it says."
Rosa let out a long breath, "Well, at least I'm closer to finding out than I was yesterday. " She smiled at him and he returned her smile.
XXX
Rivendell stood high above a gorge that was thick with pines and deciduous shrubs. Delicate, lacy waterfalls traced their way down the cliffs and into the river below. A polished stone bridge spanned the chasm as a cloaked rider upon a white horse plodded towards the house. The hobbits smiled, reminiscing in the middle of the garden, their fear from the recent events washed away as they knew Frodo was healed. From across the way, Frodo spotted a familiar figure sitting on one of the many stone benches throughout the garden. The figure was relaxed, reading from a rather large red book.
Bilbo looked aged and frail, nothing like he did at his birthday. He leaned heavily on a wooden staff as he got up to greet Frodo. "Hello, Frodo, my lad."
"Bilbo!" Frodo said as he hugged him.
"Oh!"
Frodo read from the book that Bilbo had, "'There and Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins.'" Frodo leafed through the book, "This is wonderful!"
"I meant to go back… wander the paths of Mirkwood… visit Laketown… see the Lonely Mountain again. But age, it seems, has finally caught up with me." Bilbo said.
He gave Frodo a sad smile, and Frodo stopped to look at a map of the Shire. "I miss the Shire. I spent all my childhood pretending I was off somewhere else," he glanced over his shoulder at Bilbo, "off with you on one of your adventures! My own adventure turned out to be quite different." Painful. Horrifying. Frodo could still remember the feel of the Ringwraith's blade sinking into his chest. It was more than just sharp metal, it burned like acid on his flesh. "I'm not like you, Bilbo," Frodo sighed.
Bilbo patted Frodo's cheek, "My dear boy."
On the balcony, Frodo leaned against the railing, watching Sam pack his bags.
"Now, what have I forgotten?" Sam said to himself.
"Packed already?" Frodo asked, smiling.
Sam turned towards him, and shrugged shyly. "No harm in being prepared."
"I thought you wanted to see the Elves, Sam," Frodo responded with a smile.
Sam looked flustered, "I do!"
"More than anything?"
"I did! It's just… we did what Gandalf wanted didn't we?" Sam said, his voice almost pleading. "We got the Ring this far to Rivendell and then I thought, seein' as how you're on the mend, we'd be off soon." Sam eyes flicked to the floor and back to Frodo. "Off home."
"You're right, Sam. We did what we set out to do." Frodo opened his hand, staring at the ring in his palm. He could almost hear its whispers, hear it calling to him. It wanted to be worn. And Frodo just wanted to be rid of it. "The Ring will be safe in Rivendell. I am ready to go home."
He truly was.
A/N: I'll probably revise this again, as much as I hate to be *that* type of writer, but I just couldn't leave it the way it was.
