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The hills and vales of the southern Dunland were alive with the flowers and blossoms of early spring when I passed upon my horses from the realm of the Fisherfolk, which I had become somewhat accustomed to in my time there, and I breathed of their freshness as the world seemed to awaken from its sleep.

It seemed all the more lovely now than in my memories, and I found myself in wonder at the buzzing of the bees, and at the elegant contours of each flower in this creation. I had never so much loved spring before as I did now, and I wondered if my time on Tol Morwen was responsible for this new appreciation, or perhaps if it was my exposure to the small starlight kept safe against my breast.

Whatever the cause, I found this spring journey all the more wondrous, and while I did not linger overlong in the hills of Dunland, I certainly took the time to behold the beauty of their forested hills and tranquil spring meadows. I did not wish to stay in the land of those I had just defeated in battle, but the ruins of the old Greenway kept me company as I passed over the hills.

Thus neither hasty nor slow was my descent from the foothills of the Misty Mountains into the sloping valley of the Gap of Rohan, whereupon to my left, still many miles east, I could see the last great pinnacle of that range, towering above the low hanging clouds to stand like a silent monolith at the base of all it's cousins to the North, the Mountain was named Methedras, and it was the first truly mighty pillar I had beheld. Towering and cruel, mighty and proud, it stood above the lands of Dunland, and above the Gap of Rohan and all these lands like a king surveying his domain. From its grey imposing ramparts ran rivers and valleys, forests and hills, and all paid homage to this southern bastion of the greatest range of Western Middle Earth.

It was in the early evening that I passed out of the lands of Dunland when the red light of the setting sun cast the great mountain in fiery hours and glistened against its snow-capped peak with last glimmering rays that seemed to shine like a spearpoint. Below it to the east, I could see the high walls of Nan Curunír, the valley of Saruman, which I sought to avoid, and from its doors the sloping flood plains of the Isen which stretched south before turning west at some point still beyond my sight.

I had passed Dunland without speaking to, not seeing hide nor hair of any other man, and I wondered if it was because of my own haste, or if the folk of Dunland had simply not yet come forth from their winter lodgings, or perhaps there might be fighting elsewhere even. The Ketherlings now laid injured, and there was little love for them amongst the other hillfolk.

Whatever the case may be, I took my two horses and rode south into the lowlands of the Gap, where the White Mountains had been cleaved from their Misty Brethren, perhaps as long ago as in the years of the trees. I was riding south to cross the Isen into the West March, the region of Rohan which stood contested on this side of the Gap between the Isen and the Adorn, its tributary. From there I would use the roads of the Rohirrim to cross the gap while hopefully avoiding the eyes of Saruman, and ride northeast past Fangorn to cross the Entwash delta and arrive in Lothlorien at last.

Well, that was the theory anyway.

The sun was well set across the horizon, and I was searching for a place to camp where I spotted upon the slopes of the Isen a settlement, clinging to the old north-south road. I had been much lacking in speaking company while passing the hostile land of Dunland, but this was well below the hills and in the ranging of the Rohirrim no doubt. I was thus more comfortable to direct Hinzil, and Ûrêthôr beside her, to enter the town and seek a tavern to accommodate a weary traveler.

It seemed a sad place as we approached it closer, for it had once no doubt been an outpost of Gondor. Crumbling stone buildings were now supported by decaying timbers, and tile roofing had long given way to thatch as I rode down the battered old street. Much was abandoned to ruin, though not so much as Lond Daer had been, and I wondered if any yet lived in this place. Though nearer the river the houses seemed maintained, and I turned that way, hoping to find an inn.

I was drawn from my path by a soft weeping, however, and a sound of anguish that sounded like the voice of a woman. I looked too and fro and thought it must be coming from the ruins beside me. Being as I had no great hurry, and also knowing that I should not leave any in suffering if I sought to call myself a servant of Eru, I left my horses tied to an old signpost and wandered into the ruins.

The stones there were old and grey, cracked and broken, and on the floor was a mosaic which had suffered greatly the wear of years. It depicted a pleasant scene of what must have been the town at its height, with many boats of Gondorian and Arnorian make sailing the Isen and traders and carts along the north-south road passed by a small and happy hamlet. Like its subject though, the mosaic was cracked and broken with age, and the colors had long since faded from its pigment.

It was in the next room that I found the source of the weeping, a young woman of raven hair sat pressed against a corner in what must have long ago been a storeroom, her face pressed in her hands and facing the wall, she sobbed and sobbed wretchedly, wearing little more than rags.

I stepped towards her, but at once felt something was wrong, even as I began to reach out, I drew back, and I was lucky for it, as she sprung from the ground like a coiled lion, her fingers long claws like daggers and her mouth a terrible split, alive with fangs. Her eyes were red as blood and glowed with cruelty as she bit at where my hand might have been but a second before.

"What manner of fiend!?" I stepped back quickly, drawing out my sword from its sheath and clutching it with both hands, for Tindómë was still on my saddle. I was afraid at that moment, for I knew not what this monster was, but that fear did not long last against instinct and faith.

The creature which had been as a woman cackled and I saw in the moonlight that she had the features of an ugly bat as she leaped towards me, but she must not have preyed upon many warriors, for her leap was long and exposed, and I was not so terrified as I had been at the revaluation of her evil. I brought up my sword and stepped forward to cut across her forearm. Steel-cut unnatural tendon and spilled blackened blood as my shortsword severed her right hand at the wrist.

Her shriek was a terrible, evil cry, and there before my eyes, she disappeared into the night with a great shrieking. Before I could blink she had departed the ruins, and I was left alone with my blade clutched tightly in my hands.

For what felt like long moments I kept my vigil there in the dark. I had overcome my fear now, for if she was a creature that could be injured by blade and steel then I had less to fear than I had first thought. Instead, my mind turned to safety, and to keeping watch should the monster return. It was as I turned and shifted my stance that I felt my foot brush against something on the floor. I looked down to see the wrinkled, severed hand, fingernails like long claws. It was frozen in a cruel, grasping reach, and I knew at once that it was still a part of the monster, for the muscles did not slacken, and nor did the raised veins upon its shriveled length recede.

I drew it up then and wrapped it in the rag I used to clean my armor, before I returned to my horses, running my hand along the bulwark of Tindómë, glad to find that the creature had been likely too injured to think of stealing away my friend's gift.

Still on guard, I led my horses towards the part of the old outpost which seemed more inhabited, and I was surprised to find that indeed, there were footprints of men and horses in the mud, and there seemed to be at least one building alive with light in the dim evening, a small tavern located at the furthest point of the town, closest to the fords of Isen which I could see stretching out a mile or so down the slope.

It was new construction, unlike the old buildings of the stone town. It was not dissimilar to the building of Enedwaith or Dunland, only it seemed sturdier and had two stories, and I suspected this then was the construction of the Eotheod, the Rohirrim. Its roof was thatched and seemed well enough maintained, and there was a place to tie your horses on the side.

At the door there stood an old man, beaten down by years, but still seeming firm and implacable as he eyed me from the entrance. I guessed from his apron that he must be the proprietor or at least a worker at the tavern. "It is rare enough we see a warrior from the north passing through the gap on these days." He said noncommittally, though after a moment he paused and shook his head. "But you must be weary from the ride, and I am not an inhospitable man. Tie your horses off, and I'll ask you about your journey inside."

I nodded, doing just that. "Thank you, though all the same, I hope you do not mind if I bring my shield with me. I encountered a… beast in the ruins of the old town."

"You… that was the shrieking then. Did you kill her?" The man asked a hopeful tone creeping into his voice.

"No, she escaped before I could cut her down, but I did take this from her." I peeked back the rag to reveal the hand, and I saw his gaze become fixed upon it, a mix of fear and awe in his eyes. "Do you know what it was? It had the form of a weeping woman but it turned upon me and I saw she had fangs and claws and eyes that glowed hotter than fire."

The man nodded slightly, but he glanced back and forth nervously up the road towards the ruins. "Not here" he whispered through clenched teeth. "Inside."

I followed him into the tavern, and he said me sit down by the bar as he fetched both of us some ale. I noted that the rest of the folk in the tavern were all old and worn as he was, no children ran about on the floor and no young men laughed at the end of a day's work. He seemed to notice my gaze.

"The young folk have all fled the Maiden." He said with a weary, quiet voice, "she is a shapeshifter and a blood wight, she came upon us some years ago and began to prey upon the outlying farms." He seemed to glance back and forth paranoid as he spoke, his eyes kept going to the hand wrapped in rags. "We are simple folk, not a warrior like you my lord. There is little we could do to stop her. They say she was once a maiden of Gondor before our people came to this land, but that she was seduced by a vampire and became like him. None can speak if this is true." He pointed his finger towards the hand. "She will no doubt be after you for that, but she can walk in the shape of man or woman, like bat and wolf and raven, and even like the dark of night itself!"

"If she returns for it then at our next meeting I will cut off her head," I said slowly, taking in the words of the man. She sounded to be a vampire, but I was not so sure if those truly existed in Arda. It certainly matched with what I had seen of her though. Still, as I pondered on it, a thought occurred to me, and in whispers, I told it to the tavern keep. "But it would be best if we were to set a trap. I do not fear her as you do, having injured her, and if I were to take some carrots and place them within a rag and pretend to bury it in the ground, she would no doubt have to dig it up from the dirt, for it could be her hand."

"I have some carrots in the pantry…" the man nodded, stepping back from the bar and putting down his already largely drained tankard. My own was still untouched, I needed a sober mind if this plan was to succeed.

The tavern-keep, whose name was Gethrin, brought out the carrots, and together we began to make our plan. He would keep watch from the rafters on the second story, while I went out in the yard to bury the hand and bless it as I would a corpse. With luck, the burial ceremony itself would force the Maiden out of hiding.

And so I set to my task. I began to dig out the pit, clutching the bundle of carrots to my chest, I began to prepare the burial, and I placed the false hand within the earth as I would a body, and began to cover it with sod.

"The Maiden comes, she had cut loose your horses!" Gethrin called out, and I saw him there in the door, leaning partially against the frame, and I felt panic come upon me, but in the dim light of his silhouette, I saw that his right hand was hidden behind the door frame, and at once I was suspicious, but I feigned belief, and I rushed from the yard as if moving to see the front of the tavern, waiting until I was about the corner before I turned to watch the shapeshifter rush back out into the yard, returning to her womanlike form.

She scraped at the dirt with a frenzied expression, her long nails taking away the sod as she picked up the false hand and clutched it to her breast, and then as she moved to unwrap it I strode back around the corner and fell upon her with my blade.

She did not have time to turn, but only to scream as my shortsword bit into her pale shriveled flesh and stabbed through her blackened heart.

As dark blood oozed from her wound I did not see her face, but I brought my sword out and slit her throat also. I worked my blade through until her head was cut from her shoulders, and then carried it into the tavern and threw it into the fire, where it burned away to black, ashy soot, and let off a terrible smell.

Gethrin though had not yet come down, I realized as I watched the monster perish, and I rushed up the ladder to the loft, and found him injured there, bitten and bleeding upon the floor. He looked pale and weary, but he still breathed and had propped himself against a beam, clutching his hand over the bite. She must have left him alive in her haste to reclaim his hand.

"Ah… my friend… I heard her scream, did you slay her?" He asked weakly, his old hand reaching out. "Is it done?"

"Yes, it is done Gethrin, the Maiden will trouble your people no more." I paused, looking towards the door, and then drew out my necklace. "Watch, I will share this with you, and it will ease your burdens."

With that, I shared once more the light of the third gift, only for a brief time, but it stemmed the bleeding and reinvigorated Gethrin so that he was less pale before I shut it away once more. His eyes were full of wonder, but I silenced his speech, and together I helped him down back to his tavern.

Gethrin placed me then as a guest of honor, and many who were at the tavern had seen me burn the Maiden's head, and I was offered a great volume of ale and food, as much a feast as the old people there could provide, for many had lost children and loved ones to her trickery in their years, but I was exhausted, and moreover, I found that indeed Hinzil and Ûrêthôr had gone missing and with them all the wealth that I had kept in their saddlebags. I had been wise to bring Tindómë with me it seemed.

Thus I resolved in the night to continue to Lorien afoot, and I settled to uncomfortable rest after burning the rest of the Maiden and her severed hand with some firewood in the yard. In the morning I stayed upon the bed Gethrin had lent me and prayed to Eru that my horses would be returned, or if not returned, that they would be safe amongst the wild horses of the plains. Then I put upon my back all that I had left, and I made for the Fords of Isen, for I could no longer afford to take my time riding south to avoid Nan Curunír.

Gethrin sent me on my way with a hearty breakfast of Bacon and apples, and he made it clear that I would always be welcome in his tavern and indeed in this small village at the Fords, and I walked out upon the Greenway feeling better than I had the night before, resolved to the loss of my steeds if it was to be Eru's will.

The slope down to the Isen was marshy and full of flowers, but as I came upon the fords I realized that the crossing would be treacherous, for the early spring floods had come down off of Methedras and swollen the banks to overflowing, and while a mounted man might still cross with his horses, a man on foot would be up to his shoulders or worse in places, and risk being dragged downstream to even more dangerous waters.

Still, in the early morning sun and under the song of the rushing waters I prepared myself to cross, and removed my boots upon the muddy shores, only to be turned from my disrobing by the sound of trotting hooves, and a kind and gentle voice.

"Is this the one you were seeking after then? Hmm, I must say he's not hard to spot."

I stood, barefoot and wide-eyed, as I turned to see a short man in a long grey robe, with a very wide-brimmed hat of light blue, and a grey beard that hung down below a pair of clear grey eyes which seemed to glisten with bubbling spring-water. He smiled gently as I turned to look at him. His one hand held a staff, and behind him, we're Hinzil and Ûrêthôr and I at once knew his name, for in this life and the last both I had heard his stories.

"You are Mithrandir," I said in shock, before deciding that the appropriate thing to do was most certainly to bow. I was standing before a pure Maia after all. "I have heard many stories of your history with our people."

"There is no need to bow, young man." The wizard chuckled good-naturedly. "I had merely found these two lost in the plains this last Eve, searching for their master." He paused for a moment, humming to himself. "Though it appears you were going to attempt a crossing without them, that seems a rather foolish endeavor in the spring flood."

I paused, he was right of course, but I had not expected his intervention. Still, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised when the hand of Eru had guided me so kindly this far. "I had thought to make for Lothlorien with all haste, but I lost my horses by the trickery of a blood wight, which had been haunting that town there, upon the hill."

"Oh?" The angel in the guise of an old man asked innocently, stepping up to me and looking me up and down. I noted that his eyes lingered on my helmet and shield. "Curious? what business could bring a young man halfway across middle earth to the realm of Lorien?" He stepped back though after a moment. "Ah, pardon me, I don't wish to pry deeply, only an old man's curiosity."

I shook my head at once. "If anything it is an honor to have one such as you take interest in me. I will tell you how I came here if you wish." I glanced down towards the deep and fast-moving waters. "I should wait to see if the flood lessens anyway. I can hardly cross the Isen like this."

"Hmm." He smiled gently, gesturing to a rock nearby that we could sit on. And then, showing his insight, chuckled. "Tell me… have the folk of Tol Fuin tried Shire pipeweed?"

_______________________________________________________ up slowly through the gap of Rohan, its beams glistening upon the frigid, flooded waters of the swollen fords below us as I sat and spoke with the Grey Istari.

He was perhaps one of the few alive I could be sure to trust in all of Middle Earth, and besides that he was good company, listening cheerfully and smoking his long pipe as I laid out my story for him. He would interject at times and ask for clarification, but he was patient and kind and did not criticize my actions but instead nodded along in comprehension at times, and his presence was like a soothing balm on my insecurities, particularly when I spoke of publicly revealing the third gift, as I had in the Enedwaith.

Indeed, so calming was the presence of Gandalf, of one that I knew I could trust, that I ended up telling him more than I had intended, of my suspicions of my elf friend's identity, of my initial doubts of purpose and my confirmation by the omens, and I was even drawn to hint at my otherworldly origin by simple unassuming questions and patient politeness.

I got a distinct feeling, glimmering in his eyes, that I was something like a puzzle for Gandalf, a curiosity he had not expected to encounter, but one that he seemed intent on parsing the meaning of. I had no doubt that he had met many young warriors like me in his long long years, man and elf alike, but likewise, I think he was trying to see where I fit into things.

It was a question I had struggled to answer since my birth in Arda, and I was pleased to see him take his time considering it. Even after I finished he spoke little, save to accept some rations of bacon I offered him. Instead sitting in contemplation and smoking thoughtfully, which I was loathed to disturb.

It was approaching eleven I think when he finally decided to stand up, and my heart fell somewhat as I realized he likely wouldn't have any answers for me this day. I had hoped that one who had seen Illuvatar in the space before creation would have more insight into his plans, and perhaps Gandalf did, but he did not share them with me this day. "Well, that was a lovely breakfast, young man." He chuckled gently as if realizing my crestfallen curiosity and moving to soothe me. "And you've made quite a story already, but if wisdom and purpose are what you seek I'm curious as to why you didn't pass north to Isengard." He stroked his beard carefully, still thinking as he spoke. "Before I found your horses I was heading that way myself. Surely if you know of me then you'd know of Saruman, the head of my order?"

I had been moving to stand, but I stood a bit straighter and tensed at the suggestion. "I-... I fear him somewhat, I have heard that he is a collector of relics and secret things, and I fear that he would take my gifts to hide them away in the Orthanc." I had other fears too of course, but I did not voice them, Gandalf could probably glean them from me without me speaking the words.

"Hmm, I do not think he would be so bold, but he might persuade you to give them up yourself. Still, he is greatly interested in the kingdoms of men, and a young warrior of royal blood would do well to hear his advice. He has stood a long ally of your ancestors." Gandalf suggested pleasantly, looking up at me from beneath the brim of his hat.

"I do not seek a claim!" I said hurriedly, it had been bad enough when Alfven had pressed me, but if Gandalf began to do the same then I would have to seriously consider it because I trusted his wisdom above almost any other. "I would not rob the heir of Isildur, to him is my loyalty!"

The angel in the guise of an old man smirked slightly, and then placed his hand upon my shoulder, strangely familiar. "There is room for more than one king in the world, and like that line, your blood has more than one claim. Now come, I have other topics to speak to Saruman of beyond your purpose, and if we tarry we won't reach Orthanc today." He gestured with his staff to the north, and I bobbed my head slowly. I wasn't quite sure what he was talking about, but I was quite sure he would tell me more later.

Still, my thoughts swiftly moved from curiosity to dread as I offered him Ûrêthôr to ride and followed him north into the valley of Saruman.

To either side of the river Isen the feet of the mountains rose up to form a great granite canyon that spilled in places streams and small waterfalls which trickled down into the river, and the trees were dense and healthy with the buds of spring, though not as old as the Eryn Vorn had been, nor as cruel. I followed the wizard without speaking much, though I gasped at the sight of the Orthanc. It was a pillar of black Numenorean stone rising above the Isen, and it truly seemed an impossible bastion, though it had sparse battlements I knew well that its stone was all but impregnable, built with the magic of my ancestors, forgotten even in Gondor.

It was worthy of being compared to Barad Dur, though lesser, and the sight of it made me quiver somewhat, for even with Gandalf accompanying me, I feared the greed of Saruman. My hand was tight in Tindómë's grip as we passed the open gates of the curtain wall and into the courtyard of Isengard proper. Trees stood carefully cultivated between pristine stone pathways, and spring sunlight shone down between the budding branches, accompanied by birdsong.

It seemed almost impossible to imagine this place falling to become a pit of industrial cruelty, and yet I knew that was its likely fate. Only force of will stopped me from clutching at the necklace upon my chest for strength.

At the base of the tower stairs stood Saruman robed in white and with beard and staff to match, he looked upon me with inquisitive eyes, which seemed to dismiss me almost as soon as he saw me, though he then looked to my shield and helm with recognition, before turning to Gandalf.

"The spring arrives and with it you as well my friend." He spoke, and the words seemed to wash over the world with power and authority. It didn't matter that little warmth was in them for Gandalf, he proclaimed him friend, and so, it seemed friends they were. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Have you grown tired of Halflings at last?"

Gandalf sputtered at that, though it quickly turned into a chuckle, and I saw him relax visibly. "Hardly, I think there's still far more of them to learn." He said cheerfully. "They have quite a vigor for inventing new delicacies."

"..I'm sure," Saruman said, not making such a grand statement this time, though his voice still seemed to hold power all the same. "And who is this then?" His eyes drew over to me lazily, as if he was putting on a show more than actual interest. "A Numenorian child, wearing Elven trinkets and Mail of Enedwaith, trailing along behind Gandalf the Grey. I suppose you have a story to tell."

I held myself from terror under his gaze, though perhaps I was overreacting, he would not be so openly evil yet. Still, I offered him the same bow of respect I had Gandalf. "I am Rhîwonnen, of Tol-Fuin. My ancestors hail from Cardolan and Gondor." I paused for a moment in my bow. "I have encountered many friends since I departed my home, these are gifts I have received."

"A bearer of gifts then." He said calmly, his interests clearly piqued, though I suspected mostly by my helmet and shield. "Ah, but the hours are short in the valley, and the sun will move behind the mountains soon. Would you care to stay in Orthanc this evening?" He asked Gandalf moreso than me, and the other Istari answered on my behalf.

"Yes, I had planned to stay and speak with you more anyway. I have gleaned some new insights against our foe in Mirkwood."

"Then come, rooms are prepared for both of you." He said smoothly, brooking no further discussion as he bid the door of Orthanc open behind him and ascended the steps.

It was a harsh comparison to the village I had slept in the night before. Even when it had been an outpost of Gondor it had been but a small town, the Orthanc in comparison could rival the Minas Anor, which had long been a seat of kings.

Inside its black stone was cut away in endless buttresses and many lights and marbled decorations stood out from the bulwark, patterns were wrought intricately to the floors with all the craftsmanship and artistry of Numenor of old, and the stairs felt comfortable to walk on, made for men taller than was average.

When we reached the third floor, I saw that dinner was prepared, though I had seen no servants when climbing the tower. It was a substantial thing, and the silverware of higher grade than any I had seen, but all the same somewhat restrained, there was only to be three of us after all.

"You may leave your arms and armor in your chambers on the north face of the next floor, and your horses will be in the stables, fed and looked after, come the morning." The white wizard instructed carefully, his voice's power controlled within the confines of the tower.

I nodded, climbing the stairs to the next floor and following a side passage to a chamber that seemed fit more for a king than a lone rider. Heavy silk covers sat atop a four-poster bed large enough for a family, and there was a balcony to the side overlooking the valley. There was neither window nor shutters, but there was no draft, perhaps due to the construction of the tower itself. Regardless I would not be rude to my host or reflect badly on Gandalf, so I quickly left my gear behind upon the bed, though it irked me to leave two of my gifts in the guard of a host like Saruman. I did not think he would publicly break guest right though, not with Gandalf here, but I still held the third gift beneath my plain linen shirt as I returned to the table, where Gandalf and Saruman already held conversation, though they had perhaps out of politeness not began to eat.

"It's reached all the way north of the Mountains of Mirkwood, how much longer can we let this continue?" The voice of Gandalf Trickled to my ears.

"Patience, Gandalf, patience, We must be cautious when dealing with the Necromancer. When last you came to pursue him he fled before he could be defeated and captured."

"But his tendrils grow ever outward like a toxin, I snuck into his dungeons some decades ago and…" the grey wizard paused as I descended the steps into the dining room, before frowning. "How much did you hear, young Rhîwonnen?"

"That you are urging to drive out the Necromancer, and that Saruman wishes patience to trap him," I said carefully, moving to take the open seat at the table, noticeably the most plain of the three, albeit just as fine.

"And what do you think?" Gandalf asked gently, but Saruman only scoffed.

"Relying on the guidance of children will lead to childish ends." He said bluntly, his eyes darting to me shortly, before returning to Gandalf.

Gandalf simply glanced at me and then nodded, telling me he still wanted to hear my answer.

I was cautious in voice and word as I spoke, both these seeming men were angels, and I did not want to presume my own wisdom over theirs. "I do not know enough about this Necromancer to give such an answer," I said, and Saruman seemed to nod at this as if recognizing that I knew my place.

"Hmm, but I do not take you for one who lets his foe's plan and scheme unaddressed." Gandalf pushed, and I had to concede on his behalf at that.

"I am young, but I do not think such an enemy would solve themselves. The necromancer must not be mortal for the two of you to speak of him as such a great foe."

"Perceptive, though hasty, a folly of youth," Saruman said somewhat coldly, though after a moment he sighed. "You are right though, he is some dark creature of the first age, no doubt, a vampire or perhaps even a greater shadow." His gaze moved to Gandalf. "Which is why we must be sure to trap him, lest he is allowed to spring up once again the moment we are elsewhere."

"Trap him perhaps, but not ignore him. The years pass swiftly beyond your tower." Gandalf almost growled, darkening the room, but after a moment, his face softened. "We should gather the wise and act to remove him."

"Hmm, perhaps…" Saruman said after a long moment, and though he did not look I felt his eyes upon me even before his head turned. "Although Gandalf, I admit your companion holds more of my interest, the craft of his gifts especially." His gaze finally turned to meet my own, and there was command in his voice as he spoke. "Tell me, boy, by what hand was your armor made? Few left in the world have the hand for it, and many serve the great foe."

I shuddered under the accusation, though perhaps more from the power of the wizard's voice, and Gandalf interposed himself on my behalf.

"He was given them by the fair hands of an elf, not some servant of evil powers." The wizard spoke plainly, meeting Saruman's eyes fiercely in my defense.

"Ah, my apologies then." The white wizard withdrew, and the pressure in the room faded. "It is only that much tragedy has been wrought in the past by trusting the hand of even the seemingly noble." There was a bitterness in his voice, and I knew its source. "I did not think there was such craft left amongst the Eldar though." His eyes turned from Gandalf's to my own.

I nodded slowly, held under his gaze. "I know the name of the one who gave them to me." I held myself in my chair. "But I did not wish to speak it openly until I reach the halls of Lothlorien."

"You would not share it with me?" Saruman ventured, and at once I felt held to do just that, my will frowned beneath the strength of his tongue, a power beyond mortal ability. "I would hear it, and the Orthanc is not some public square."

I looked to Gandalf, and he seemed not as concerned by this request, though I saw sympathy in his eyes towards my plight, he did not intend to intercede again on this more minor issue.

So, helpless, I spoke, though I feared it might bring I'll fortune to my friend for one such as Saruman to know of him.

"It was Maglor, the last son of Feanor who I met upon the shores of Tol Morwen." I nearly cursed as I realized I had given location as well, though no doubt Saruman would have drawn that out of me. "I befriended him, and he crafted me three gifts from a fallen star."

I blinked as I felt all pressure on my mind withdraw rapidly, almost hastily, but my eyes could only widen as I saw a look of rather uncontrolled surprise on Saruman's face, though he quickly hid it away. "I did not think…" the wizard seemed lost within his own thoughts for a moment before he shook his head. He seemed uncomfortable with the vulnerability that he was showing, at least in front of Gandalf. "There are few things in Middle Earth I had thought, that escaped my knowledge, but I believed that the line of Feanor had long ago passed from this world and that nevermore would their crafts be seen in the mortal realms." He sighed. "I apologize, I have perhaps been somewhat overbearing." The wizard seemed then an old man, pinching at his eyes, the authority and glamor falling away from him like a cloak, then his eyes left me for but a moment and flickered to Gandalf, and the darkness was there again, like a storm swelling over a gap in the clouds. "Still, I think it is about time this dinner should end." He said firmly, and with little else, walked off to some high place within the tower.

Still, for the briefest moments, I thought I might have glimpsed the sky, and my mind raced with the knowledge. This was not the Saruman who had wholly fallen to evil and greed, not as I had feared. He had forgotten his purpose, and pride was great in him, but not yet so great to choke out every good quality, and perhaps that was why the Isen had flooded when it did, and Gandalf been there to take me to Isengard. I had lived my adventures this far following the signs of Eru, but I had not realized that these too might be the touch of his hand.

Within my heart, I said a quiet prayer that he would continue to guide me because the task these recent events suggested was an intimidating one to be sure.

"Well, I had hoped he would have more pertinent wisdom for you, young Rhin." The Grey wizard said idly, turning from the stair where Saruman had retreated, though he must have seen something in my face that lightened his mood, for I saw him smile. "Or perhaps not, it seems you've gleaned something from this meeting, even if Saruman was harsh with you. He knows the most of the evils of the world, and it makes him look ill on much good fortune. Still, his wisdom is genuine."

I nodded my head, even if in that briefest moment of vulnerability. There was a Saruman that had long served in Arda there, one that seemed choked under his own assumed pride, but that had been worthy of trust for Millenia, even if that honesty now slipped through his fingers. It made sense why Gandalf had turned to him upon finding the ring, and why he was rated amongst the wise, even discounting his power as a Maia.

The dinner was quiet and brief after that. Gandalf seemed to have his own concerns to mull over, and I was of course much the same. I was feeling rather much a fool for not having even thought of redeeming Saruman or at least redirecting him from his present path of damnation. I was under the impression when Eru had sent me out that he wanted me to change things for the better with my presence in middle earth, yet here I had been passing up a chance to greatly do so because of my own fears and attachment to items that were ultimately less important than that cause.

When I retreated to my chamber, finding my gear entirely untouched, I sat and prayed that Eru would continue to reveal a path for me and forgive me for my earlier fears. After I had finished I sat on contemplation for some time, trying to divine how to deal with Saruman.

Deep into the night I stayed within my own thoughts, until the clear light of the moon like fresh spring-water slipped over the mountains and flowed through the window of my chamber. I was only broken from my mind by the sound of a rap upon the intricately carved door.

I blinked upon the bed, not having realized how long I was in meditation, but I soon nodded. "Come in." I did not know to expect Gandalf or Saruman, nor which I would be more relieved to see.

The door swung open to reveal the latter, taller and more imperious than Gandalf would ever be, his white robes seeming almost ethereal in the moonlight.

"I hope I have not disturbed your rest." The White Wizard said. Force returned to his voice which had been reduced at the end of dinner.

"No, I was thinking," I said shortly, I did not know why he had come, but though I thought it might be my role to turn him from evil I was sure it would still be playing with fire.

"Ah a youth, but spending your time more wisely than many men of this age." The wizard paid a backhanded compliment, though I thought it more a general insult to my race as a whole. "Come, walk with me, I have matters to discuss with you, and it is difficult for me to discuss things openly in the presence of Mithrandir." I saw a brief flash of annoyance across his face. "He is… prone to hasty action, though still, he is the nearest of our order to me."

In what capacity he was near was left unsaid, but still, I nodded, because I did not think it would be Eru's will that I refuse.

And so I accompanied him out of the Orthanc, and into the wide gardens of Isengard, as the moon hung high in the sky and its light glistened on the leaves of the strong green boughs.

Saruman maintained a quick pace ahead of me and I had trouble matching it at a walk, despite our similar height, which seemed to amuse the wizard. "You seem to know a great deal for one so young." He began, almost immediately gunning for the heart of the matter, and leaving me struggling to catch up. "Tell me, how did you come to encounter Maglor when even the wise not know he still walked Arda?"

"I saw the star fall from Tol Fuin in the evening, and I sailed out to Tol Morwen following its light. That was where I encountered him."

"Hmm… I doubt many have ever visited that isle." The Wizard continued, "but then how did you know who he was? Did he tell you?"

I nearly froze up at the suggestion, but with will and mind, I made myself relax. "No, I guessed it by the songs that he sang and the quality of his gifts." I slowed myself. "I already knew the story of his father and the crafts of his line."

"An educated child then. Few men can say the same in these long years." I saw something deeper in the eyes of the wizard as he spoke, but his words continued to keep me distracted. "And of those gifts… was there anything more? Your helmet and shield are of exceptional make, but I sense that there is more weight on your shoulders than them."

At that, I froze, almost paralyzed, and the wizard noticed, spinning on his heel so as to face me fully. I had been charmed by him in coming, such that I had not realized he held his staff, he stood there armed, and I not at all.

"It would seem I was correct." There was a danger in his words, and the power in his voice seemed to roar like a storm. "Show me." He spoke with authority, and at once I felt that same terror roll over me, but now I had bolstered my spirit with faith, and that held a bulwark.

With trembling hand, I pulled the necklace out of my shirt, showing the amulet to Saruman. I could tell this time it was not truly his voice that had led me to the action. Despite the trembling, my faith had held strong.

At the sight of it, Saruman let out a sigh, like the wind whistling through the mountains, and in a quiet and exhausted voice. "Not a ring then…" The words slipped his lips like a whisper, born with disappointment, and then perhaps some small part shame. "You need not fear me." He said almost as an afterthought. "No matter how Mithrandir has spoken ill of me, I am not the sort to rob my own guests."

Not yet the thought passed my mind, unbidden, and I could not say what hand places it there, or indeed what it meant, but I shook my head at Saruman's words. "Gandalf has only had praise for you, save for your outburst at dinner," I said quietly, but the words only seemed to make the white wizard slump further. Silence reigned in the courtyard of Isengard.

It brought pity to my heart. This was not a man, or indeed an angel, who had fallen wholly to spite and greed. He was on that path for certain, but it seemed most of all he was lost, and his pride would not let him display it to any of his peers. Perhaps he only dared show it to me because I was in his eyes a child and a mortal who would be gone in some small span of years compared to the Maia.

I paused for a moment, wondering if I should let it rest at that, or if I ought to open the locket, but my heart steered me towards the latter, and I braced myself and broke the silence.

"There is more to it if you would like to see it," I spoke unbidden. "You would hear of it from the men of Dunland and Enedwaith in time, but you were not wrong when you spoke of a heavy gift. Maglor set the heart of the fallen star within this locket, and worked it with spells so that only the hand of the one who received it willingly would be able to open it."

The slumped wizard blinked, his eyes clearing in the darkness as he once again paused to look upon the necklace, and I saw that his breathing became tight, especially at the mention of craft, which was after all near to his heart.

Then I opened the locket, and the path was filled with the brilliant light, reaching up towards its kind in the stars above, pooling in the budding leaves of the trees, and at once all seemed bright and beautiful even in the dark of night, but the wizard who I had shown it to recoiled, blinking and holding his hand before him, and yet peering over it his arm, enraptured.

For a long moment, he simply stood like that, before a stern look came over his face, and he lowered his arm and stopped there to stand fully exposed in the light, though I could see he still felt pain at its presence.

He looked like a ghost there, casting a great shadow over the ground behind him, and he did not speak a word, merely stared at the necklace and frowned in thought, as if trying to reconcile some great gulf within himself.

Finally, he nodded to me, slightly, gently, and I took it as a sign to shut the locket. At once the night seemed dim and dreary once again, but still somehow brighter than it had been before.

For a long moment we stood in the dark, then he spoke, and his voice was neither powerful, nor assertive, but rather held in it a melancholy to reach the depths of the ocean. "It is a terrible thing, to walk upon a knife's edge." He said at last, and then he turned from me with haste and began to walk off faster than I could follow. "I will see you off in the morning." Was all he said, and I did not know the full meaning of his earlier words, for I had hoped that the light might be his salvation, but from his tone, I thought that perhaps he still intended to walk upon his earlier path, if only now somewhat chastised.

Regardless, and perhaps by the protection of Eru, I did not think I had anything to fear from him as I returned to my quarters and slipped into a dreamless slumber.

_________________________________________________________Morning came late to the valley of Nan-Curunir, with the sun creeping over the feet of the Misty Mountains at no later than ten, but the birds were up and singing as soon as the purple of twilight was displaced by blue sky dotted with white, puffy clouds, and as I glimpsed these sights through my open window I realized that I must have slept in perilously late.

Perhaps it was how long I had walked with Saruman the last evening, or perhaps it was simply that the sheets and linens of Orthanc were finer than any other bed I had slept on in Arda. Either way, I spoke my morning prayer to thank Eru for the fortitude and courage he had granted me the night before and then hastened to prepare myself for returning to travel. I cleaned my mail, sharpened my shortsword, and fastened my pack before I began to descend the Orthanc. I trusted Saruman's word that my horses would be in their stables, but I saw no sign of the wizard as I descended through the great vaulted chambers of the tower.

The reason why was revealed as I found the doors ajar and descending the stairs found the white wizard sitting before them on a stone bench and keeping watch over my horses, who seemed prepared to travel. I could not speak as to why, but he seemed far more relaxed than he had been the evening before as if a weight was off of his shoulders.

"I did not think it custom for the men of Numenor to awake so late in the day." The wizard ribbed me slightly, but there was no strong malice or authority in his voice, so much as criticism was his manner of speaking. "Are you well prepared to ride?"

"Yes," I said, moving to stand beside where he sat and giving a short bow. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"Mhm." The wizard nodded slowly, reaching out and tapping me on the shoulder with his staff to raise me out of the bow. "You have given me a great deal to think about, child." He said quietly. "It is rare that I have guests, and rarer still that they are so interesting. I have reprovisioned your saddlebags, and you will find a gift within them also, though I doubt it will be half so great as those you already bear." He paused for a long moment. "If you pass Isengard again, grown in age and wisdom, I hope you shall speak to me again. Though I cannot promise I shall be here. I am feeling the need to travel once more, probably Mithrandir's intention." While his words were mostly kind, if authoritative, there was a bitterness that crept into his voice at the mention of his fellow Istari, but I did not let my notice of it show on my face.

"I would be happy to." I said kindly, "and I will be sure to appreciate your gift, whatever it may be."

The wizard's eyes met my own, dark to near blackness and sharp as needles, but not entirely without empathy. "Hmm. I suspect you will." He said after a long moment, before standing up to his full height. "Go then, there is little point wasting time on frivolities when there is work to be done."

With that once again he turned his back to me abruptly, and hastened into the tower, though he did not slam the door behind him.

Still, I knew it was time that I depart, and I mounted the back of Ûrêthôr to lead my horses onward over the stone bridge of the Isen, passing once more through the gardens of the ring with the birds now bright and singing with life. Young green leaves filled the tunnel of branches which lead to the Eastern gate of the fortress, and the old stone ring seemed merry with fresh-grown flowers and bright Ivy's, and I wondered at how far Saruman must have needed to fall for him to throw all this away for smoking pits and rumbling cogwheels.

Having crossed the Isen, I rode south along its banks to pass out of the valley of Saruman, and down towards Rohan proper. No sooner had I passed the last mountain though then did I see a bright light upon the hill above the bank, shining and pale, I knew at once who had summoned it, and I rode to meet Gandalf upon the ridge, overlooking the slope, where on one side was the grassy plain of Rohan, and the other the deep green forest which must be Fangorn.

"Hail Gandalf!" I said cheerfully as I met him there, bringing my horses to halt so I could dismount, though he stopped me from bowing. "I had hoped to ride out with you this morning, but I'm afraid the silks of Isengard had me too long asleep."

"I departed before first light, there was no error on your part." The angel smiled gently. "I thought it best to take my presence off of Saruman's mind, particularly once I realized which of us had the more important role to play in Isengard."

I paused at that, looking down to spot the cheerful grin on the wizard's face. Behind my helmet, I raised an eyebrow. "Is the Necromancer not important then?"

"He is pressing, but I doubt I would have had much success swaying Saruman no matter how long I stayed at Orthanc." Gandalf chuckled slightly. "It is odd how things can exceed your expectations at times. I had thought you might learn something from your encounter with Saruman, and indeed perhaps you did, but I think he took the greater benefit from your meeting."

"I…" for a moment I considered what I had seen of Saruman the night before, and again at this morning. Perhaps Gandalf was right and it was his departure which allowed Saruman to be more relaxed, and perhaps to give more consideration to what had occurred on our walk. "I think you are right, he seemed far more relaxed after you had left."

"I thought as much." Gandalf sighed. "I know where the enmity he feels springs, but it is not an easy thing to rectify, particularly when he keeps his heart sealed away so tightly." The wizard let the statement hang in the air for a moment, then shook his head. "Would you mind terribly to accompany me for a while? I think I should like to know you better, and I find the road grows rather lonely at times."

I nodded my head. "As far as Lothlorien at least, would you like to ride on Ûrêthôr or upon Hinzil?" I offered my steeds, but the wizard shook his head.

"We shall need to walk I think." He raised his staff slightly towards the Northern side of the hill. "The forest paths are ill-suited for riding."

I stopped still, glancing down towards Fangorn. It was not a forest that well-liked men, but if Gandalf thought it wise… "Yes, I suppose that's true, they shall have a difficult enough time as it is upon the roots."

The grey wizard gave a short nod and set off down the hill with surprising haste, and I had to lead the horses behind us as we passed from the bare ridge down into the lush green wall of the Fangorn in spring.

Here the growth was old and all-consuming, roots covered the ground and left little room for undergrowth as the old forms of gnarled trees stretched up to form a canopy thick as midsummer, even in early spring with the leaves not yet full, and I could feel the eyes of the forest upon me, though they were not here as angry as they had been when first I entered the Eryn Vorn. These trees didn't hate me in particular, not the way they had there, but they held instead a bitterness and mistrust of all things which walked on two feet and used tools of steel and stone and fire.

Despite that mistrust, I would be lying to say I did not appreciate the place. The hollow wooden halls of Fangorn were as great as any city of men or elves, though their population was of rodents and foxes, rabbits and songbirds, rather than any great throngs of two-legged folk. Here and there animals darted between the tree branches and kept eyes upon us. It was an old place and primordial in its heaviness.

"Keep up now." Gandalf chided good-naturedly, bringing me from my distraction as I had slowed down a bit, and now I found myself hurrying after the wizard. "The Fangorn is beautiful but there is much of it left to see, and still more for us to discuss."

"What would you like to speak about then?" I asked, a little eagerness in me. I might be going to Galadriel for wisdom, but Gandalf's words were just as valuable.

"Hmm, first and foremost I should think your heritage ought to be addressed." He smiled slightly. "You have said that you are not interested in contesting the claim of the line of Isildur, but you know that your own bloodline ties you to Gondor, moreso than Arnor."

"Yes, insofar as my mother's line. During the kin-strife Vinya, daughter of King Aldamir, was married north to the family of Methras in Cardolan to keep her safe from the armies of Castamir the Usurper." I recalled my mother's heritage. "She was a twin to King Vinyarion, who assumed the name of Hyarmendacil II when he shattered the armies of Harad. The family legend says that she ever longed to go south to support him, but that all turns he instructed her to stay in the North with her husband, for Gondor was in terrible war against Umbar until her death. Cardolan was much depopulated by the time she came north, but even so, it was considered safer. It was shortly after her death that our people fled to Mithlond and from then on to Tol Fuin."

"Hmm, I recall those years. Hyarmendacil was a wise king." Gandalf sighed, and it occurred to me that he had likely seen all that I described play out before him, and suddenly I felt greatly embarrassed for relaying a story to one who might have personally participated in it. "The Kinslaying brought much ruin upon Gondor and lessened it in the face of the years to come. Perhaps had Castamir not turned to ill, the line of Kings would not have ended as it did." He sighed, but then after a moment smirked. "Or perhaps not all lost, for your own line, and that of Isildur, share in its blood, through Vinya, and through Firiel."

I nodded. "But that is precisely why I cannot take the throne of Gondor, Firiel married Arvedui some two centuries after Vinya came north, and the male line of Isildur has claim over both kingdoms should they wish it. My own heritage is far less noble." I let the statement sit for a moment before continuing. "I would not wish to cause a new Kinslaying over something so petty as a claim, nor would I want to deny that line its rightful throne."

"Perhaps." Gandalf conceded, "but if that line were to perish?"

"I would rather die than see it so," I said with full conviction, clutching at the necklace upon my breast. "But then I might take up that banner if only to hold off the evil which would swallow the world but I would drown in shame that I had failed them so greatly."

"It is good then that there is another claim you have forgotten," Gandalf said patiently, though I thought I saw him approve of my words. "Your blood may be more distant to Gondor, but your heritage is closer to Vidugavia of Rhovanion, for Vinya was his great-granddaughter."

I very nearly tripped over a tree root at the words that left his mouth and I had to catch myself upon a trunk, finding a handhold. "I… had not thought of that," I admitted, somewhat embarrassed. "But Rhovanion is hardly a kingdom in this age, and its people have fled and become the Eotheod have they not?"

"Some did, but there are many peoples yet between Mirkwood and the far east who would answer to a unification, Especially if it came from one who had proved himself." The Wizard gave me a look as if he knew all there was to know on the subject. "Many fled west, but others north and south and east. Nevertheless, the children of Rhovanion still cling on in the Vineyards of Dorwinion, and the men of Dale in the north share that stock. Others live amongst the Easterlings, or even further afield as Nomads. If you were to rally them many would take up the call. Though some fell under the shadow and took up evil ways, while others remained faithful. Sadly matters of peoples are never so simple as we wish them to be."

"I… will think on this." I nodded slowly. There was much I had not thought of, or learned. I could think of no argument to pursuing a crown which would otherwise rest in the dust, but in the same light, it would be a great undertaking to restore a kingdom which had been scattered to the four corners of the earth. Was this then the will of Eru? Should I throw myself into the rebuilding of a righteous nation of Northmen? Was that the reason for my placement in Middle Earth?

"Do not let your feet drag for want of certainty," Gandalf instructed, gently tapping my back with his staff to keep me moving. "How old are you this year Rhîwonnen?"

"Fourteen" I answered almost automatically, picking up my pace again as I led my horses on. "I was born in the fell winter."

"These questions are best left until you are a man, by your own people's standards at least," Gandalf said carefully. "I tell you these things now only because you are so intent on seeking wisdom from the wise. It would be best then if you consider them also."

I nodded in thanks, following behind him. "What then should I do until that time?"

"Only the one we follow can answer that." Gandalf chuckled dryly, "but I would suggest you do as you have been doing, heal the wounded, set right what wrongs you can, and restore things tarnished." He tapped my chest, just where the third gift was. "That light you hold does more than healing the body."

I nodded at that, and glanced down in wonder, drawing the gift out from under my mail, though I did not open it at that time.

A long while we walked like that in the quiet of the woods under the chirping of the birds and the rustling of the branches with the squirrels, until late afternoon when we came upon a tall tree in the rough shape of an old man, and I found myself realizing why Gandalf had taken us through Fangorn.

"Ah, I see you've heard of the Ents." The wizard said approvingly. "I thought you could perhaps find more of the wisdom you were looking for here. Good afternoon Treebeard."

There was a rustling and a snapping of twigs as the tree slowly, shudderingly came to life with a groaning rumble. Brown eyes seemingly lit from behind by a green light blinked open and stared down at me, and strange wooden lungs drew in a massive breath that sounded like the wind whistling through the branches.

"My… Gandalf? Is it springtime already?" The lord of Fangorn asked in his drawn-out manner. "And here I had just gotten to sleep." The towering ent stretched his arms out high above his head and let out a yawn that seemed to echo through the glades of the forest which shared his name. "Hmm, and you've brought a friend with you… my apologies, but are you a man or an elf?"

"A man," I responded "I am Rhîwonnen, of Tol Fuin, Great Fangorn." I bowed deeply to the ancient ent, who I knew was amongst the eldest beings of Arda, predated only by Maiar, Valar, Tom Bombadil perhaps, and the mothers and fathers of the Elves and Dwarves, if any still lived.

"Hmm… I don't meet many men anymore." The great tree said wistfully "less that know my name, most call me Tree-beard." He squared slowly and creakingly down to look at me. "You look to be a little warrior… are you a friend of Gandalf's?"

I glanced over at the wizard, who nodded.

"Aye, though I haven't known him long."

"Men don't live very long, not very long at all. That's why they so quickly forget." Treebeard said slowly before a smile crossed his leafy features. "Ah, but a friend of Gandalf's is a friend of mine." The great tree stood back up, looking down at me kindly. "What brings you two short-folk to my woods this spring? I don't suppose it's just to visit old friends?" I could hear a hint of hopeful wistfulness make its way into his voice with those words, and a broad smile, broader than before, cross his face at Gandalf's response.

"To visit old friends yes, and to introduce them to new ones. Rhîwonnen here is just a youth, a sapling if you would, and he's looking for guidance on his path. I've already taken him to see Saruman, but I thought that you had a rather different sort of wisdom for him to hear."

"Hmm is that so? I didn't realize you were a sapling…" the tree rumbled looking back over at me. "Well then of course! I don't think I've had a good chat in…" he seemed to drift off, no doubt caught in some memory. "...Quite a long time. Yes, I can't recall just how many seasons precisely. Come along then, Wellinghall is not far from here, not far even for little feet."

The tree seemed altogether quite merry, and I saw Gandalf give me a soft smile. Apparently, I had asked quite the right person when I had looked to Gandalf for advice, as he was doing the part of introducing me to others who had their own wisdom and beliefs. It was kind in a way I couldn't quite describe, one that made my heart feel warm like a chair and a blanket beside a warm hearth.

Still, I could not pause to thank him, because we both had to hurry to keep up with the Ent Lord's steps, which led us on through the forest for several miles to a gap between two prongs of the Misty Mountains, flanked by enormous conifers which reached up against the mountainside like silent watchtowers, between them flowed what was probably the headwater of the Entwash, as it spilled down the mountainside in a clear and burbling torrent which pooled inside a wide chasm, within which a collection of roughly hewn stone furniture was placed about.

Treebeard himself, cheerful as he was, had sat himself down in a great stone chair, thrice as tall as a man, and he seemed to eagerly await our sitting down, bidding me leave my horses by the door, they would not run from this place.

"So hmm, what have you come to ask me Sapling?" He looked down at me and the green light in his eyes seemed to shine. "I can tell you little of men or elves, but I know much of the woods and wilds."

I was flat-footed for a moment, glancing at Gandalf for guidance, but he just smiled and shook his head, gesturing that I should figure it out myself.

That made sense I suppose. I was expected to learn and grow on my own too, even if I was allowed to ask for help.

"Hmm, maybe… I know it was more the provision of the Entwives than of the Ents, but if I am to rule a kingdom someday…" I glanced over at Gandalf, I still wasn't as sure about all of that as he seemed to be. I didn't think the light Eru had given me should be kept for one land or people. "I think I would like to do it in harmony with the forests and the fields, and things that grow. Like the Elves do. I'm sure you know more about that than almost anyone."

The ent stared down at me for a long while after that, unblinking, thinking no doubt in his gradual Entish manner. It must have been minutes indeed, or even hours for I felt this was a place not unlike Tol Morwen, where time seemed… different, but then Treebeard smiled, more broadly, more fully than any smile I had seen on his face before, the branches which stuck from his head like hair stood up straight and sprouted bright green new leaves, and he reached out a great hand, which before I knew it had plucked me from my seat on the floor in front of him to drop me on the armrest of his great stone chair.

"I have not heard such a request as that since the world was young." He said, and there was a joy in his voice that made his whole body seem to shake with happiness. "I had never thought to hear it from a man, much less a sapling, yes I'll teach you." He chuckled and the bark of his skin seemed to brighten two shades. "Only be patient with an old ent, if I'm not as quick of wit as Gandalf." He cheerfully gestured to the wizard, who sat pleasantly on the floor and had pulled out his pipe.

"Of course," I said, nodding, it seemed like I had said the right thing. It might be a delay on my journey to Lothlorien, but if Treebeard was planning to be as thorough as he seemed, I was sure it would be worth it.

"Excellent!" The ent rumbled. "Then let us begin your education, little sapling."

___________________________________________________________

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Charles Garrett Abbott

Feb 28, 2021

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Imperial Fister

Fortifying The Thread

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Feb 28, 2021

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#532

Local Middle Scholar Talks To Trees, They Talk Back

My Snippet Thread: Imperial Fister's Fortress

Sufficient Firepower Solves All Problems

Spoiler: For When A Fic Really Grinds Your Gears

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Xodarap1

Feb 28, 2021

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I can't help but think Gandalf made a mistake to take a fanatic impressionable youth and pair him with a impressionable tree that I can't help but picture a army of trees reshaping the roadways to dolguldul and the misty mountains.

Answer A the force

Answer B stupidity

Answer C religion

ANswer D all of the above ↑

Green: The sky is explosions. The clouds is explosions. The water is explosions. My mages are explosions. I nearly exploded. WHAT THE HELL KIND OF MAGE WERE THEY BUILDING THESE DESTROYERS TO FIGHT?!?!?

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ConfusedCanadian

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Feb 28, 2021

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#534

So as some expected Rhin will most likely take the kingdom of Rhovanion as his own and recreate it into a Numenorean kingdom. And seeking Treebeard on how to make his kingdom isn't a bad idea as well he is old and wise his advice will be useful in founding or in this case rebuilding a nation especially one that will fight against Sauron(Just as long as Rhin doesn't take all his advice since I doubt all of Treebeards advice is useful). Though I doubt it'll be anytime soon after all Rhin is only 14 give him a 10 or 15 years first to grow both in body and mind but experience as well(and gives him time to learn how to rule and lead, and get a full set of armor and weapons as well). And that'll also let his name and renown to grow making it easier to rally Dunedain and others to his cause when the time comes.

Though I have to say if he does re-found such a kingdom he'll have a lot of work ahead of him Rhovanion is a large place to rule and being surprisingly close to Mordor. And that's not given the fact Sauron will do his utmost to stop Rhin from succeeding in re-founding the kingdom. Nor the fact a lot of the Kingdoms south of him are under the sway of Sauron and will thus be his enemy.

Last edited: Feb 28, 2021

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Ricroq

Feb 28, 2021

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#535

And so it was that the young Paladin of Eru Illuvatar gained several Druid levels after communing with nature.

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Shador

Feb 28, 2021

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#536

ConfusedCanadian said:

So as some expected Rhin will most likely take the kingdom of Rhovanion as his own and recreate it into a Numenorean kingdom.

I very much doubt that. The peoples that used to form the kingdom and still live in its lands aren't Numenorean, and I can't see any reason any significant number of dunedain wold migrate to it.

It's not like being a Numenorean kingdom is necessary to be a force of good in the world. The Rhovanion of the Kin-strife era didn't have any significant numenorean heritage, and yet without it I higly doubt Eldacar would have been able to retake his throne.

Last edited: Feb 28, 2021

You are not properly stealing the fire from the gods if the gods have any fire left afterwards.

Romeo and Juliet was a tragedy displaying how stupid it was to think with your crotch, instead of your brain. Anyone who thinks it's a romantic story is an idiot.

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ConfusedCanadian

How did this happen?

Feb 28, 2021

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#537

Shador said:

I very much doubt that. The peoples that used to form the kingdom and still live in its lands aren't Numenorean, and I can't see any reason any significant number of dunedain wold migrate to it.

When I say recreate it into a Numenorean Kingdom I more mea

Last edited: Feb 25, 2021

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Last edited: Feb 14, 2021

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Charles Garrett Abbott

Feb 13, 2021

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ConfusedCanadian

How did this happen?

Feb 13, 2021

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#312

Hey we've met Gandalf already! That was pretty fast story wise.

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Mojogopo

A Simple Frog

Feb 13, 2021

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#313

It is just fun to read this, from the Beowulf style monster hunting through guile and martial prowess and the Tolkein-esque feel to you give to the traveling.

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Karmic Acumen

Feb 13, 2021

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#314

Charles Garrett Abbott said:

~le snip~

Oho! Gandalf wasted no time in making his appearance! This is also the first time I see him being referred to as short. It's easy to forget how tall Dunedain are.

Small nitpick, Maiar is the plural form of the term. Gandalf would be a Maia.

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Ariathedog

Feb 13, 2021

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#315

Happy to see an update. Can't wait for more, I love this story!

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Monshroud

Feb 13, 2021

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#316

Charles Garrett Abbott said:

"Oh?" The angel in the guise of an old man asked innocently, stepping up to me and looking me up and down.

A lot of people I know who only watched the movies were quite surprised when I told them exactly WHAT Gandalf really is, and how much power he REALLY has.

They actually thought he was just some old wizard!

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Charles Garrett Abbott

Feb 13, 2021

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#317

Karmic Acumen said:

Oho! Gandalf wasted no time in making his appearance! This is also the first time I see him being referred to as short. It's easy to forget how tall Dunedain are.

Small nitpick, Maiar is the plural form of the term. Gandalf would be a Maia.

Gandalf is actually only 5'6", He just hangs out with a lot of Hobbits and Dwarves.

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Imperial Fister

Fortifying The Thread

He/They

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