O' weary traveler || lotr ||

7

Guess who's back... Back again

Callon slept soundly in the crook of her master's neck; no Martin, big or small, had ever slept as peacefully as she did when the company picked their way through thickening trees towards the centre of Fangorn.

Ithil, however, the very contrast of his faithful companion, grew in unease like a sheep lead closer and closer to its slaughterhouse. The forest was not unknown to him, he had been to Fangorn before. There were very few places he had not been before. The consequences of a lifetime of travel, especially when that lifetime is as long as an elven one often is.

But it was not the forest that made his heart thump in his chest that little bit harder, made his blood pump that little bit louder. No. It was what lay concealed within, who stood in the shadows. Half revealed, unwilling to show themselves, not yet. He could feel it in the whispers of the trees, sense it in the moss underfoot. The forest was still, waiting, tense in anticipation. Something was about to happen, something big.

His chest ached more and more with every step. The wound he had gained saving Sam felt opened anew, and the magic that he should be absorbing from the forest like oxygen, seemed to leak out of its edges. The charm around his neck felt heavy; the constant stream of magic he fed it in exchange for hearing felt all the more taxing. But ever resolute, he staggered onwards even when the world seemed to shift and melt like a painting. Even when a high pitched ringing was all he could hear and he longed to remove the necklace, but could not convince his arms to move from his sides

"The forest is still; it watches with bated breath; something is coming." The dark-haired elf murmurs, catching the arm of his brother. Clouded eyes meet clear ones, and Aragorn immediately takes note of how Ithil seems to stare straight through him. Gentle calloused hands guide the elf to stand behind the human.

"Aragorn, nad nâ ennas! (Something is out there)" The other blonder elf speaks

"I know, something is wrong, look after him", Aragorn instructs, pushing his brother gently to stand with Legolas. Ithil goes without a fuss, which perhaps is the most concerning thing. No objection, no want for independence or insistation that he is, in fact, fine.

Legolas takes the darker-haired elf's face into his palms gently, looking into milky eyes for any flicker of recognition. Aragorn turns away to smile to himself.

"Man cenich? (What do you see?)" The blonde whispers gently

"The White Wizard approaches," Ithil whispers back. Palms drop from his cheeks in favour of stringing an arrow.

"Do not let him speak. He will put a
spell on us."

Aragorn unsheathes his sword, Gilmi grips his axes, Legolas raises his bow and Ithil stares unseeing into the distance.

With a yell, the three able party members swing around to attack, only for a blinding light to envelop them. Gimli throws his axe. It is shattered. Legolas fires an arrow. It is deflected. Aragorn swings his sword. It becomes molten in his hands.

"You are tracking the footsteps of
two young Hobbits." A voice states

"Where are they?" Aragorn shouts into the abyss of light

"They passed this way the day before
yesterday. They met someone they
did not expect. Does that comfort you?" The light responds, mouth concealed. Face unknown.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" He demands, sounding every bit the king he was born to be, yet at the same time, exactly like the ranger he became.

The light fades. Ithil blinks, his eyes dry and sore.

"Gandalf?" He asks, voice faint. What exactly happened? He wonders. It all seems so blurry.

"Gandalf. Yes. That's what they used to call me." The wizard smiles, it drops from his face as he looks at Ithil. His eyes catch on his figure as if they can see something others can not.

"Gandalf the Grey. That was my name." His smile returns as he looks over the rest of the party "I am Gandalf the White. I've been sent back until my task is done. "

"I...yes. I saw it. I saw you as you fought the demon of Morgoth. From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak until you smote his ruin upon the mountainside" Ithil relays his vision, still breathless, "It seems my magic is returning...only now it is showing me the past not the future"

"Yes. Yes, there is something different about you now, my dear friend." The wizard huffs thoughtfully, "The enemy enlisted the Wizard Saruman to imprison your power, though now it seems the balance has shifted. Even he can no longer keep your magic suppressed."

The dark haired elf sighs, he'd never even net the man. He made a point of avoiding wizards (the exception of course, Gandalf, for the man is almost unavoidable)

"If it comforts you, your father had nothing to do with Sarumans plot to strip you of your advantage. Ithil son of Alatar" Gandalf speaks his face stern, "both the blue wizards remain firmly against Sauron"

He says no more but his eyes linger on Ithil, considering him.

"I come back to you now, friends, at the
turn of the tide." He declares finally.