Journeys: 1. Prologue: The Wanderer

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1. Prologue: The Wanderer

'A journey may start at any time or in any place, but where and when that journey will end, only the wise can tell, perhaps it never shall…'

He did not know when he had begun to walk there, many, many years ago it was; though that was barely a fraction of the time he had lived.

He had watched from the chalk cliff when the white ship had set sail, heading into the West that long night past. Bearing both mortals and immortals alike along the Straight Road, to the Blessed Realm, to Tol Eressëa, the lonely isle, or, perhaps even to Valinor and Eldamar itself; to the Swan havens of Alqualondë, or the shining white walls of fair Tirion upon Tuna…

But that was not where he was walking to, no, he was walking south following the coast; well, he had been following the coast. But many a day ago, he had, somehow, turned eastwards and begun following the mountain ranges. He had seen great horsemen, like unto the people of Hador, with their straw like golden hair; riding over the green plains of the land. But they were easy to avoid, Orcs though were the greater problem, for many had fled into the mountain caves after the fall of Gorthaur. But, they too were easily avoided if one knew where to tread.

He had passed, many weeks ago, a city, or township of the Straw-headed folk; with a great hall, thatched, as if with gold, that shone far over land. But soon did he pass this, not willing to stay too long else he was discovered. Journeying onwards, he saw many smaller villages of Men, built, most oft of wood, and thatched with straw. But none were as magnificent as that great hall upon the hill.

Many streams and many rivers did he cross, but ever onward did he walk, towards where he knew not; but ever onward did he walk following the course of Rána, and of Vása in their journeys to the east. Many times did Gil-Estel rise and fall, ever lighting his path, and ever still did he walk on.

Under rain, under sleet, under snow, under hail, under fog and under burning sun did he walk. Through night, through day, through bitter twilight, yet still did he walk onwards. Singing of his regret and pain, seeming as a wraith he walked and yet, for all his frightening countenance in the night, the people within their homesteads held no fear towards this wandering minstrel; or rumour spread, that when he passed the people were blessed by him and, that their crops, and all their business' would flourish; for the Powers were watching over them, protecting them from harm.

Many days did he pass through, and many lands also; and in all did he witness the spread of the Second-born children of Iluvátar, the Aftercomers, the Edain, the Hildor. And in all did he witness the decline of the Elder races of Arda; of the Quendi, the Elder children of Iluvátar and, of the Naugrim, the adopted children; who were made by the Vala Aulë in the deeps of time. For, while the Atani spread, and grew, and prospered, the Quendi passed into the West, or retreated to the woods where the call of the sea could not haunt them so easily. As for the Naugrim, they also retreated to their halls; their halls of stone delved deep within the mountains, where few can ever reach them. And so, pondering the fates of the Elder races, he realised not that he had passed through the land of the Straw-headed folk, with their reverence for horses; and, had now passed into the land where men built their houses from stone more oft than wood, and where they had built a great stone city that looked to be carved out of the mountainside. And, it was near to this city that he found himself.

Intrigued he was, by the craftsmanship that he saw from outside the city walls; for he saw the gates were wrought with Dwarven craft, for who else could craft gates wrought of mithril and of steel. Intrigued also he was by the festivities that he could hear from within the city's walls; and, by the traffic of people entering through the gates even at this early hour of the morn. So intrigued was he, that he found himself joining those who sought entrance to the city; for the Wanderer was still one of the Eldar folk, and that folk are curious by their very nature.

And, so it was, that he entered the great stone city in the hours of early morn on the first day of the Summer solstice celebration of the year forty-five of the Fourth Age; to seek answers to the questions that had begun to plague his mind when first he did set eyes upon this stone city.


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.

Story Information

Author: Aria

Status: General

Completion: Work in Progress

Era: 4th Age

Genre: General

Rating: General

Last Updated: 01/05/10

Original Post: 06/15/07

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Journeys

IVIaedhros - 15 Jun 07 - 11:57 AM

Ch. 1: Prologue: The Wanderer

Hmm, Maglor hits up Minas Tirith, eh?  From your description, I had expected him to end up in Harad or somewhere else way south.  I look forward to seeing what happens to him.

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