Disclaimer: I don't own The Lord Of The Rings, if I did I'd be a lot richer and that new series wouldn't have been made, these fantastic stories and worlds are owned by the Tolkien estate and New Line Cinema respectively.
Right, chapter three, I made some difficult choices with this one that I'm still not sure about, still feel free to tell me what you think.
Review responses
JannerWingfeather: thank you for the kind words, on the point of anachronisms I'm doing my best to avoid them but some will of course slip through, I don't speak middle-english day-to-day, if the perspective is Marcus's you'll see a lot more as he is a modern man and so he'll use modern slang…not always to his benefit.
As for my use of poundage to measure a bow's weight that is actually the only way I know and I think if I'm remembering correctly that's how they did it back when Longbow's were common, though I might be mistaken there, as I said, bow's are not my speciality
Guest: well you'll just have to read to fond out.
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Chapter three: Can I wake up now please?
Eretor sighed as he thought, he'd seen the boy watching him and the other men the day before as they practised their archery, he'd seemed interested but hadn't joined in, which had surprised the Ranger as Numenoreans were famous for their skill at archery, at least amongst men, the elves made them look alike to children playing with their father's bow's.
More troubling however had been their spar the day before, whilst Marcus clearly lacked the skill of a true soldier, he more than made up for it in speed and strength, as soon as he'd taken the momentum from Eretor the lad had utterly dominated the fight, it hadn't mattered that his form was full of holes, he was too fast for the Ranger to take advantage of them, he'd only won the fight in the end due to the boys strikes proving too powerful for the training sword…
He worried that the boy's arrogance would grow and lead to cruelty, but there was little he could do about it.
By this point Eretor had walked about a league ahead of the caravan when he saw to his surprise a figure cloaked in grey walking along the Green Way, towards them with a clear purpose, as he grew closer Eretor couldn't help but smile as he recognised the man, it was Gandalf.
"Greetings Mithrandir!" He called cheerfully, making his way over to the ancient ally of the free peoples.
The ancient wizard paused before smiling and calling to the Ranger. "Hail Ranger of the North!"
Drawing closer the Maiar in the shape of a man asked after a moment's thought. "Eretor is it not? Son of Enelas?"
"You have a good memory Mithrandir! We have not met since I was a very small boy." The Ranger stated with a rare smile, bowing his head to the wizard in respect.
"How is your father? I have not seen him in a decade!" The wizard asked with a small smile, only to falter when the man's face fell.
"He fell in battle against orcs five years past." The Ranger stated with downcast eyes full of old pain.
"Oh, I am sorry." Gandalf murmured, his eyes full of compassion.
"Don't be Mithrandir, he died doing his duty, it is the way of our people." Eretor stated strongly, his eyes full of conviction. "He fell protecting a farmer and his family, they now live in safety and comfort thanks to him."
Gandalf merely nodded his acceptance, not wanting to focus on a subject that even for his strong words clearly pained the ranger and so changed it.
Instead the Maiar in the shape of an old man nodded again before asking after a moment. "Very well, I wonder if you could help me, a few days back I felt something, a disturbance, would you have happened to see or hear of anything…odd?"
The wizard's tone was idly curious but his eyes held an urgency, Eretor thought for a moment before offering his reply. "There is one thing, a few days ago I came across a caravan from Rohan, it was under attack by goblins, the strange part however was that before I could do more than remove the threat of their archers a man joined the battle, a Numenorean man…"
"Mayhaps a man of Gondor coming to see his northern kin?" Gandalf offered.
"No, you misunderstand me Mithrandir, he is a pureblooded Numenorean, undiminished, it is as though he left Numenor yesterday…and he is not a man…not truly, he looks more like a boy…" Eretor finished slowly, still pondering the strange lad.
Seeing the wizard about to open his mouth he continued. "There is another thing, a far more concerning thing, he doesn't speak the common tongue, nor Rohirric, nor Sindarin and not Quenya, he only seems to slightly recognise Rohirric…"
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Gandalf thought for a long moment after the Ranger had finished speaking, his eyes narrowed. Coming up to stand by the Dunedain he asked after a moment. "What of his nature, what can you tell of that?"
Eretor paused for a moment clearly thinking his answer through. "He is arrogant, his great strength and speed clearly cause him great delight, he is also maybe a little cruel. But…he is also patient, letting the children of the caravan crawl all over him, he helps wherever he can, takes defeat with a laugh. He never complains about the simple fare that they feed him and he showed great compassion for the little ones lost in the goblin attack, or so the caravan master's daughter tells me." He finished, trying to recall all he had observed over the past few days.
Gandalf nodded to show he heard what was said as he thought. "That is interesting, I would like to meet him, it may be that I have a way to communicate with him…what are the chances that he is of Black-Numenorean stock?" Gandalf asked, he knew there were a few that maintained their ancestral traits to the east, even through their service to the enemy, remnants of the Kings-men of old.
"I do not believe so, despite his arrogance he does not seem to be one of my fallen kin." Eretor stated thoughtfully. "I do not think he'd be so patient with the little ones if he was…" he finished.
Gandalf merely nodded thoughtfully. "Well then we shall see." He stated, walking side-by-side with Eretor back towards the caravan.
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Eretor looked between the stunned looking boy and the slightly baffled Mithrandir with raised eyebrows. He'd not expected the lad to recognise the ancient wizard, certainly not when he'd seemingly lacked any knowledge of any of the most commonly used languages in Middle-Earth, it seemed he'd been wrong however, the boys shocked exclamation of the wizard's common name had proved that.
Gandalf himself seemed surprised to be recognised by the lad, looking between Eretor and Marcus with an abject confusion, the boy seemingly hadn't recognised any of the languages or peoples of Arda and yet he knew the wizard?
Turning to Gandalf he opened his mouth to ask how that was possible, only to see the wizard looking at the lad in intense concentration, slowly he bowed his head in greeting and called out in Sindarin. "Hail son of Numenor!"
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I couldn't help but blink as I heard Gandalf's greeting, for that is what it surely was, I was far more distracted however by the knowledge that I was dreaming of being in Middle-Earth, though far more worryingly I began to get the terrible feeling that I might not be dreaming at all…
Frowning I made my way closer to them, trying to figure out what that wave of power had been, I knew that Gandalf was far more than he appeared, but in the films he'd never done anything like what I'd felt, at least that I remembered…it'd felt like he was…for lack of a better term examining me on a spiritual level, if that was what he'd done I hoped I'd not been found wanting.
As I got closer to them I smiled and bowed my head to the wizard respectfully, trying to think of a way to communicate with the wizard that wouldn't require the several weeks to months it'd take to learn the language, whilst I did I also came to a couple of other realizations. 'The blonde people of the caravan are probably Rohirrim, which means that Eretor is probably Dunedain? Then is that what I am? We share a look…' even as I came to those revelations Gandalf had turned to talk with Eretor.
Frowning I tried to figure out a way of communicating with the wizard, even if I was dreaming he was a character I'd admired since I was a small boy, I'd be honoured to talk to him. 'However, I don't understand a word they're saying, nor do they understand me…' frowning I continued to ponder the issue for a good few minutes as they conversed, oblivious to my thoughts.
'Wait, isn't Gandalf at least in some way telepathic? But was that just Galadriel projecting and him answering?' I'd never enjoyed the Hobbit as much as the Lord of The Rings and had never dug as deeply into its lore, not to say I knew either particularly well, not compared to the literal Tolkien scholars out there.
Still, it was worth a try. 'Gandalf!' I thought as hard as I could, trying to "project" my thoughts as best as I could, it wasn't exactly a concept I had much experience in however.
Over the next five minutes I tried it with increasing intensity and using his various names until I eventually mentally bellowed, something snapping into place in my mind
'OLORIN!'
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Gandalf eyed the lad for a long moment, he was tall, as were most Numenoreans, fare featured, with short thick black hair, steel grey-eyes a straight nose and thin lips, his high cheekbones and cold eyes gave him a slightly cruel air.
Turning to Eretor he asked curiously. "And his reaction is thus to all languages you have tried?" The Maiar's ancient and powerful mind working away, he'd used his nature to get a feel for the boy's soul, and whilst not pure it was certainly not blackened with corruption like a follower of Sauron, instead it was the grey of a man…
"Yes, though he has not recognised any as he has you." Eretor confirmed, clearly deep in thought himself, his brows drawn together and his eyes distant.
"Well one thing I can state with absolute confidence is that he is not a Black-Numenorean, he feels far too pure for that." Gandalf stated, his eyes growing distant, another thing he'd confirmed when he'd felt the lad's soul was that he was indeed the source of the disturbance he'd felt.
Eretor nodded thoughtfully before asking after another moment. "Were you able to divine anything else about him?"
The Wizard opened his mouth to reply, only to stumble and nearly fall to his knees as a voice blasted his mind with his true name. 'OLORIN!' The voice had roared, turning his head in the direction it had come from he saw the lad staring at him in obvious shock, he'd known that Numenorean's had once possessed the ability to communicate with their minds, however he'd not expected a boy not yet an adult to be able to do so!
More importantly, how did he know his name? There were very few beings in Middle-Earth who knew of his true nature and name…
Projecting his thoughts he asked the boy. 'How do you know that name?'
Only to get a blank look in return, cursing himself he realised that just because they were speaking through their minds, that didn't mean that the lad could understand Westron.
Thinking for a long moment he was momentarily distracted by Eretor asking urgently. "Mithrandir are you well?" The Ranger's hand was on his sword's hilt and he was staring distrustfully at the boy.
"I-yes I'm well, I was just given a reminder of the abilities of full Numenoreans." The wizard stated, his eyes distant as he thought, whilst he could well enough sense the boy's emotions and could no doubt send him his, that didn't exactly stretch to being able to hold a conversation, nor to being able to share and discuss detailed concepts such as where he was from, what his goals were and how he knew the wizards true name.
Thinking hard whilst the lad stared at him intently he finally came upon an idea, he had no knowledge of if such a thing had been tried before or if it would even work, but he didn't have the weeks or months required for the boy to learn to speak Westron to a sufficient degree for them to hold a conversation, little did he realise how his thoughts mirrored those of the lad in question.
"I'm going to try something Eretor, it might work it might not, but if it does we'll be able to learn about your strange companion far faster than any other way I can think off." So saying he sent the lad a combination of feelings signalling a request for patience and an advanced apology.
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I blinked when I received that strange set of feelings from the wizard, trying to figure out what he was going to do, that was right up until I felt an immense mental pressure, my eyes going wide and actually bulging slightly as my mind was filled with what I swiftly realised was knowledge, groaning I held my head and sunk to my knees as for a few seconds I experienced the worst migraine of my life until that point, though after a few moments it seemed to fade and I managed to hiss out a single word. "Bastard!"
Only to receive a laugh and a reply that sounded exactly as Ian McKellen. "I did not have parents as you'd understand them and I can assure you that Eretor's were married!"
Looking up I saw the man and wizard both chuckling at me. "Wait! You can understand me?" I gasped in shock, but even as I did I began to understand what'd been done.
"Indeed we can, I gave you my knowledge of Westron so that we might speak together." The ancient being confirmed, his eyes full of mirth at my gobsmacked expression.
Rising to my feet I couldn't help but shake my head in wonderment. "Incredible, did you have to do it so quickly though? My head feels like a company of dwarves are mining it for Mithril!" I exclaimed, trying to use a euphemism they'd understand.
"Oh I am sorry for that, it was not exactly something I've done before." The Maiar in the form of an old man explained.
"Eh, no permanent harm no foul!" I stated with a small chuckle of my own, my immense headache already beginning to fade.
"Honestly if a bit of pain is all I have to go through to learn a language I'm not going to complain, do you know how bored I've been over the past few days with no one to talk to?" I asked with a small smirk.
"I thought the children were keeping you entertained enough." Eretor stated with a smirk of his own, Gandalf merely chuckling at my words.
"Don't even get me started on that! I had to stop Gleothain from stealing my sword three times last night! The little bugger!" I finished with a mock growl, only to see both Eretor and Gandalf go rather red and look away in obvious embarrassment, pausing for a moment I tried to figure out why, only to realise that their language might only have one version of that word…and by their reaction I swiftly realised that it probably wasn't the minor swear.
"Um, I get the feeling that though we understand each other, not every meaning of every word is the same…" I stated with a slight cough of embarrassment.
"Indeed it would seem so…" the wizard agreed with a slight frown, before then his expression lightened and he continued. "However I believe we were never properly introduced, I'm Gandalf the Grey, this is Eretor son of Enelas."
I thought for a moment on how to introduce myself to such men, they didn't have second names as such, more titles after their first name, finally I came to a solution. "A pleasure to meet you both, I'm Marcus of York." I stated with a bow of respect to both men.
"It is a pleasure indeed to meet one of my kin." Eretor stated warmly, moving forward to clasp my arm. "Now that we can finally understand each other, would you care to tell us of from where you hail? I have never heard of this York."
I noted with no small amount of amusement Gandalf visibly perking up as they waited for my reply. "That is a difficult question to answer…" I stated, frowning in thought.
"May I ask why?" the ancient wizard asked, the sounds of the caravan behind us beginning to become audible.
"Tell me Gandalf, what year is it?" I asked in place of an answer, frowning as I tried to explain to these people just when I was from, and trying to ignore the nagging feeling that this wasn't a dream.
"Why it's the year twenty-eight-thirty-two of the third age." The wizard stated, his expression beginning to grow cautious as he asked. "Why…what year is it by your reckoning?"
"I do not know the year, at least not by your understanding of it, but I know I was born after the fourth age…and maybe as late as the seventh…" I stated softly, watching both the rangers and wizards' eyes bulge at that admission.
"Then…how is it possible you are a pureblooded Numenorean?" Eretor asked, looking at me in clear shock.
I however had bigger issues, I'd not been injured so far in this dream, but the pain Gandalf had caused me when he gave me knowledge of Westron had made me concerned, such a thing should have snapped me awake, and yet I continued this strange, incredibly realistic dream, that more and more was starting to feel real.
"That I don't know, I wasn't born this way…I woke up a few days ago alone by the river in this form." I stated, hoping that the ancient Maiar would have some idea as to what was going on. I didn't however wish to tell them that in either my time or world, I wasn't sure which, they were fictional.
However just as Gandalf was about to answer the caravan crested the hill behind us, the Wizard placed a hand on my shoulder and stated. "We will continue this conversation later."
Nodding I turned back to the caravan and stated with a humorous smirk. "This will be amusing." The wizard cocking a brow in confusion whilst Eretor seemed to get my meaning as he chuckled.
Seeing Gandalf's confusion the Ranger clarified. "For the last few days he's not understood a word they've said, nor they his, but now…" he finished with another chuckle, the wizard following a moment later.
Grinning slightly I called out once they'd got close enough. "Hail sons of Rohan! What news of the Riddermark?"
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Gleodan had been surprised to see the old wise man Gandalf, the Ranger and Marcus holding a conversation, only to be even further surprised when the lad turned to them and called out in oddly accented but perfect Westron.
"Hail sons of Rohan! What news of the Riddermark?"
"You speak Westron now?" the caravan's master called out in shock, his eyes wide in surprise as he rode closer.
"Indeed I do, thanks to my grey friend over here!" he replied, pointing to the old wise man who frowned at the lads back.
'How did he accomplish that?' Gleodan found himself wondering, but still answered pleasantly. "That is good! Many in the caravan have wished to ask you questions! Myself included." He stated, though he was surprised to see the boy seemingly pale at that.
"The children are going to be impossible now…" he muttered, though Gleodan overheard, the two older men behind him chuckling in clear amusement.
Dismounting the older man chuckled and nodded. "Indeed they will be, but first I would like to thank you, for coming to our aid…you saved the lives of my children and many others." He stated warmly, clasping the lads arm.
The boy seemed to think for a moment, opening his mouth to reply, only to pause and look over to Gandalf with a strange expression, after a moment he nodded and smiled, turning to look back to Gleodan and stating. "You are most welcome."
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Righto, chapter 3 done ladies and gents, to clarify some points, I could find nothing concrete on Numenorean telepathy one way or the other, and as it serves to drive the plot forwards without a massive time-skip I thought it best to have Gandalf give Marcus the knowledge of westron.
Another I feel will need addressing is that Gandalf has seemingly let go of Marcus knowing his true name and when he is from, he hasn't, he just wants to be alone to discus those things.
As ever, please feel free to leave a review or constructive criticism.