Recalled to Life
1. Return of the Istari
Also, I have made this story an AU for timeline reasons, and for the fact that Eowyn has suffered no ill effects from her battle with the Witch-King of Angmar. Frodo, Elrond, Galadriel, and Gandalf have already departed.
Chapter I: Return of the Istari
It had been many years since any man had willingly stepped foot onto the desert land of South Gondor. It had once been a beautiful land, grassy and full of trees. The Great River, the Anduin, had supported the Gondorian people who had long resided there. Though it bordered the dark country of Mordor, it seemed unaffected by the evil of Sauron.
Evil, however, came to it in the form of the Corsairs. The dark men of Umbar came on their black boats with their hands clutching evil swords and their hearts lusting for destruction. With these sinister weapons, the Corsairs drove the people of Gondor over the Anduin, and South Gondor became a debatable and desert land. No one wished to live in it unless he were mad or marooned.
In the year 3019 of the Third Age, someone stirred in South Gondor's deserted wilderness. It was neither a bloodthirsty but marooned Corsair, nor a brave but mad Gondorian. It was a man, no less than six feet tall, but was grotesquely emaciated. He seemed to be no more than a skeleton, but moved with astonishing grace and rapidity. Perhaps it was fine dark quarterstaff that gave him such liveliness, or perhaps he moved in haste, for he had a very important task before him. The man was bent on a mission, and that mission was to find the sole area of water, the Anduin. Had any other living soul been present, he would have easily spotted the man, for his midnight blue garment and silvery beard became most pronounced in the beige milieu.
After several more minutes of the walking, the Anduin, the mighty sapphire river, lay before him. The man smiled, pleased, and yet did not bend to drink from the waters. He seemed to be waiting for something.
"'Tis all a matter of timing," he murmured to himself. Suddenly, something appeared in the river. It was a small boat, an Elvish one, seemingly unmanned. The old man saw this and cackled with glee.
He stepped no more than a foot into the chilly water and raised his staff. The staff was beautiful, a deep brown color with a strange bluish tint.
"Venite! Dormitus fada laethe, dormitus fada oiche. Venite. Shiúlaim na laethe beo!" He called out, raising his staff to the sky, as if summoning a great and unworldly power. Suddenly, the boat halted in its course down the river that would ultimately lead it to the sea. Slowly, the boat began a steady path towards the man.
The man smiled as he saw the cargo which the boat carried. In the boat lay the shell of what once had been a mighty warrior of Gondor. His face was pale, and his light brown beard barely concealed a three-day-old rivulet of dried blood, staining his mouth. His face was noble, and his attire was that of a ranger. His sword lay on his chest, its blade broken. The body's chest was also smeared with dried blood, and three puncture holes, no bigger than a man's thumb, gave evidence of an archer's weapons.
The man studied the corpse carefully.
"Where is thy horn? No matter, thou will not have need of it. When I have awakened thee, thou shalt not require anything!" Then stepping into the boat, the old man crossed the river, with Lord Boromir, future heir to the Stewardship of Gondor, as his cold companion.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.