The Edge of Night

Something... Familiar This Way Comes

They ride quickly across the plain, able to travel more swiftly on horseback, even with two riders on each mount. They inspect the burning pile of bodies but can't make out anything that does not look remotely Uruk. Gimli uses his axe to pick through the bodies, hoping for any sign that they had survived this bloody battle. He pulls something from the pile, turning to them. "It's one of their wee belts." Legolas says an Elvish prayer as Aragorn, overcome with grief, kicks a helmet across the field, yelling out in anguish and falling to his knees. "We failed them."

"There is still hope. That belt was not attached to pants, was not attached to a body. They could still have gotten away." Elfwyn says desperately.

Aragorn inspects the ground. "A Hobbit lay here. And the other." His eyes narrow as he takes in the ground around him, letting the markings in the earth tell the story of the battle the previous night as they move about the field. "They crawled. Their hands were bound." He reaches into the hay grass and pulls up a rope, one that was clearly used to bound someone. "Their bonds were cut. They ran over here. They were followed. Tracks lead away from the battle... into Fangorn Forest."

"Gods help us." Elfwyn breathes out. Legends of this forest, and what could possibly reside inside of it, had been a favorite story of her brother, cousins and hers since they were children.

"Fangorn? What madness drove them in there?"

"Clearly a battle where they ran the risk of getting trampled, squished, or stabbed. Then again, maybe tales of Fangorn are not as wide-spread to others as it was to ones who grew up in Rohan."

They carefully step into the tree line, and already it feels like the very air they were breathing was closing in on them, causing their throats to constrict, slowly suffocating them. As a girl who grew up in the wide open plains, Elfwyn could not help but start to feel a little panicked. The air was damp and smelled of rain, but not in anyway she had smelled rain before. This forest was warning them, trying to sway them from their path, and Elfwyn was close to giving in.

Gimli inspects a plant, bringing the black goo on it to his lips, tasting it, before spitting it out in disgust. "Orc blood." His gruff observation causes her to jump, scared. The silence had been deafening and once that fragile little thing was broken, whatever spell the forest had cast on her was broken as well.

Aragorn leads them further into the woods, eyes on the ground to be sure they are following the right path. "These are strange tracks." He notes, looking around them.

"The air is so close in here." Gimli adds.

"This forest is old. Very old. Full of memory... and anger." Legolas states, listening as the trees groan. The groaning grows louder, startling them all and causing Gimli to bring his ax up above his head. "The trees are speaking to each other." They all turn back to look at him.

"Gimli!" Aragorn admonishes. "Lower your ax."

"They have feelings, my friend." Legolas explains. "The Elves began it: waking up the trees, teaching them to speak."

"Talking trees." Gimli says in disbelief. "What do trees have to talk about, hm? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings."

They continue trekking on, before something in the distance catches Legolas's attention. "Aragorn, nad no ennas!" (Aragorn, something's out there)

"Man cenich?" (What do you see)

"The White Wizard approaches." He motions with his head to the right of them. Each of their faces set in stone, while Elfwyn's turns angry, a primal rage burning just beneath the surface as she grabs a dagger from her boot.

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

"I will cut his tongue from his throat before he can even blink." She says angrily.

"We must be quick." They turn and are quickly blinded by a bright white light. Gimli throws his ax, only for it to fly away, shattered. Legolas fires an arrow, which also gets parried away. Elfwyn goes to throw her dagger but is so blinded by the light she falls to the ground, her hands held over her eyes as they throb in pain. She hears Aragorn cry out as his sword burns his hand, magically heated up by the wizard in front of them.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits." Saruman's voice can be heard through the light.

"Where are they?" Aragorn demands.

"They passed this way, the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?" Something in the voice seemed so familiar, yet so menacing at the same time.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" The light dims and a white haired Gandalf reveals himself to them, bringing his staff to his left side.

"Impossible." Elfwyn breathes out.

"It cannot be." Aragorn echoes in awe.

"Forgive me." Legolas says, falling to his knees. "I mistook you for Saruman."

"I am Saruman." They look at him, confused. "Or rather, Saruman as he should have been."

"You fell." Aragorn says simply, still trying to put together all of the information before him.

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

"Gandalf."

"Gandalf?" He asks, confused. Oh no. "Yes. That was what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."

"Gandalf." Gimli says happily.

"I am Gandalf the White. And I come back to you now, at the turn of the tide."